Little Do You Know
by Kittenshift17
Summary: Post-war, eighth-year marriage law fic. In a world where pureblood pomp collides with muggleborn sass not everything is as it seems. As the pairings unfold in the most peculiar matches, the current and former students of Hogwarts have a learning curve ahead of them. Little do they know that those people they called enemies might turn out to be their perfect match.
1. Chapter 1: First Heartbreak

**WARNING:** This is a Dramione centric pairing fic, with side pairings including Ginny/Blaise and Theo/Luna. If those things are not your cup of tea then I do not recommend this fic for you. This is also a Marriage Law trope, so if you're not into the dub-con elements of that, probably don't read this story either. There will be mentions of smut, foul language and other fun things in this fic if you do dare to venture onwards.

* * *

 **A/N: I know, I know. I've got another Marriage Law fic that is Dramione centric. What am I doing writing another one? Those of you who have read 'Howl for Me' will know that it is currently an incomplete WIP that I am still pecking away at. I promise it will be finished soon, as I've been working on some new chapters. This fic has been an annoying little niggle inside my mind and turned into something of a sandbox for many of the cutesy moments that seem to worm their way out of my other plotlines. Something easy to peck away at whenever I had some spare time. I hope you enjoy it. Most of it is pre-written, and there are some parallels between this fic and 'Howl for Me'. Don't be alarmed, they have wildly different plotlines after the first chapter. Much love! xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Little Do You Know**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 1: First Heartbreak**

* * *

"Your attention!" Headmistress McGonagall called over the many voices talking and laughing in the Great Hall, "Your attention please!"

Hermione Granger nudged her friends to alert them to the need for silence. The feast was over, the dessert all cleared away. Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table beside Ron Weasley and opposite Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter. It had been quite the task to convince both boys to return to school after the war, but she had done so.

"Now, I'm sure you are all wondering why I have asked the senior students to remain behind after sending the others off to bed for the evening," Professor McGonagall said, standing at the announcement podium used for speech-making within the Great Hall. Hermione nodded her head in agreement with the Professors words. She had been surprised when the woman had requested all students in sixth and seventh year remain behind after the feast in order to be addressed about something.

Idly Hermione wondered if it might have something to do with the idea of ensuring they all knew that inter-house unity was a large focus this year and that old rivalries left-over from the war would not be tolerated. She crossed her arms over her chest at the notion. She was all for the idea of moving on and never allowing something as trivial as blood prejudice to interrupt their lives in such a way ever again. Of course, she was also still smarting about having collided with Draco Malfoy on the train just before she'd stepped onto the platform at Hogsmeade earlier that evening.

The fact that the blonde git had snatched hold of her and twisted her in his grip until her back was pressed into the wall of the compartment rather than allowing her to fall to the ground at his feet had been unexpected. The fact that he'd peered into her eyes for a long moment in total silence as though looking into her very soul had unnerved her and the fact that he'd released her without a word but instead a brush of his thumb over her right cheek as he swept a dislodged curl out of her face had made her shudder.

For a terrible moment she had feared he was going to do something barmy, like trying to snog her. And another momentary fear had been that he was using Legilimency on her with the way he eyed her so shrewdly. She couldn't say she was overly friendly towards the boy who'd been such a git to her for all of her schooling career. Even if he had sort of saved their lives by lying about their identity last winter.

"I have been asked to address all of you regarding a very important manner," McGonagall was saying, "The Minster for Magic and the Wizengamot have recently passed a law pertaining to marriage within the magical world."

A ripple of murmurs overtook the Great Hall at the Professor's words, muttering voices exclaiming over the notion and what a law about marriage might have to do with them. Hermione felt a terrible twist in her stomach as she pondered the notion and came to a startling realisation.

"As a result of the casualties sustained during the war, the wizarding population of Britain has greatly fallen. And while an increase in the amount of births is expected in the coming months and years – as is always the case when a war is over – the Ministry have seen fit to pass an ordinance regarding the… compatibility of wizarding Britain's young people," McGonagall told them delicately.

"What's she trying to tell us, Hermione?" Harry asked in a low voice from across the table, his hand clasped in Ginny's but his green eyes fixed on the brains of the Golden Trio.

"I think she's…" Hermione began but McGonagall cut her off.

"As of last week a Marriage Law was brought into effect, by order of the Ministry," McGonagall told them strongly, "The nature of this law is to ascertain the most compatible matches for all young people between the ages of seventeen and twenty-five. Through a harmless testing procedure Hogwarts' own Sorting Hat will look into each of your minds and ascertain whom among your age bracket is the best match to you. At which time the Ministry will be requiring you marry the person the Hat chooses for you."

"WHAT?" the general populace within the hall roared as Hermione sat there, reeling in shock.

"You can't do that!" Ron was shouting, having leapt to his feet.

"This is an outrage!" Ginny screeched, also on her feet.

"That's totally barbaric!" Susan Bones squealed from the Hufflepuff table.

"Where are our rights?" Ernie MacMillan was ranting at the Ravenclaw table, "We didn't go to war for human rights only to be ordered into marrying someone not of our choosing!"

"What is the Minsitry thinking?" Padma Patil yelled while her twin at the Gryffindor table seemed to have gone into shock.

Lavender Brown had burst into tears. Seamus Finnigan was cursing colourfully in Gaelic and Neville Longbottom was on his feet, shaking his fist in McGonagall's direction as he shouted something Hermione couldn't hear over the rant Ron and Ginny were hollering. Amidst the chaos that immediately ensued Minerva McGonagall stood stoically before the podium while mayhem reigned amongst her charges.

Hermione turned slowly in her seat, surveying the chaos and she felt her eyebrows rise slowly when she saw that not one person at the Slytherin table was on their feet. None of them shouted. None of them even spoke. They all simply sat there in silence, looking grim. She realised with a jolt that many of them belonged to pureblood families who might otherwise have arranged their marriages anyway. She supposed, in her shock, that many of them might even be relieved by a Marriage Law that dictated the Ministry – the Sorting Hat – could choose someone for them that they might be compatible with.

Across the table from her, Harry Potter sat in silence as well. He too looked grim. He was staring directly at Hermione as though waiting for her to explain the situation to him in simpler terms. Hermione knew his expression well. Since the Horcrux within him had been destroyed, Harry Potter had become extremely difficult to anger and harder still to rattle. He was surprised, Hermione knew, but not yet outraged. Not like his girlfriend and his best mate were, anyway.

"ENOUGH!" McGonagall shouted after she allowed them five minutes to screech and shout their protests.

Everyone fell silent beneath her shout and her stern glare, recognising that while they had every right to be outraged, the Headmistress would not tolerate their poor decorum for long.

"Now, I understand and sympathise with your outrage and your protests on this matter," she told them sternly, "I can assure you that I was among the many voices upon the Wizengamot who protested this Law."

"Why have they passed the law, Professor?" Harry asked calmly, getting to his feet – now the only one on his feet in the hall.

"The Law has been passed with the intention of growing the Wizarding population once more after such grievous losses during the war, Potter," McGonagall smiled at him tightly, clearly appreciating his lack of hysteria. Lavender was sobbing loudly in the silence that followed her answer. Hermione reeled. This couldn't be happening, could it?

"They mean to whore us to someone of their choosing for the sake of reproduction?" Hermione asked evenly despite her growing fear, her voice carrying over the hall as she stood as well, "The Ministry, in their barbarianism, actually means to tell us – all of us – whom we ought to marry? Whom to reproduce with?"

"Essentially, Miss Granger," McGonagall said, suddenly looking very tired, "The law was passed with one very important idea in mind. _You_ – all of you – are the future of the wizarding world. The age-bracket of people selected for this law – those of your between seventeen and twenty-five – was determined to be the most influential and important group within our population at present. You are the future. Do you understand? Without all of you beginning to seek out relationships, marry and yes, have children, the wizarding world will collapse."

"And that means they want to determine who the hell I should have to marry?" Ron asked, on his feet once more and sounding furious.

"That means that the Ministry wants to ensure that those of you within that bracket will be paired with someone they might not otherwise have chosen, but that they have a number of things in common with. Do not misconstrue this law. The Sorting Hat of Hogwarts will be looking into each of your minds and will be determining whom among everyone within the age-bracket is compatible. Whom you are most likely to have the most cohesive and prolific match with. We are not simply putting names on a list and randomly sticking people together in this venture, Mr Weasley."

"But the Ministry _is_ dictating that whomever the hat pairs are to be married?" Hermione clarified.

"Yes," McGonagall sighed heavily, "The Ministry has decreed that each of you who are paired will be given until the education of both parties is complete to be wedded."

"WHY?" Ginny shouted, "Why are they doing this? It's the end of the bloody war – half the people I know are already pregnant and having kids. Why are we being subjected to this ridiculous law?"

"Because the Wizengamot from five hundred years ago, in their wisdom," McGonagall's voice dripped with sarcasm as she said that, "Implemented a clause within the Old Magic of our world. A clause that states that should the wizarding population of Britain fall below a particular number of individuals, an automatic and much more barbaric law will come into effect. Essentially – should that happen – should the population of our world in Britain fall below one thousand individuals, an automatic law will be passed forcing children as young as thirteen into reckless copulation for the purpose of regrowing the population. With whomever the Old Magic deemed to be appropriate for conceiving magical offspring."

Hermione wasn't the only one in the hall who gasped at the very idea.

"Five hundred years ago it was common practice that children as young as thirteen were wedded and subsequently began having children of their own. Should that clause kick in children much younger than all of you would be forced to begin reproducing immediately. That clause makes no allowances for the completion of education or for the notion of making compatible matches. That clause sticks thirteen year olds with forty year olds and demands they have babies immediately," McGonagall informed them.

Hermione felt ill.

"I understand the outrage every single one of you is feeling over this law. It is barbaric. It is unfair. It is horrid. But if something isn't done, children will be forced into matches and demanded to have children of their own. That _cannot_ be allowed to happen. This law allows each of you the chance to finish your education. Allows that each of you to be of age before being wed. Allows for the chance at happiness with the spouse the Hat chooses for you," McGonagall told them all, "I know it's unfair on each and every one of you. I understand that many of you are still just children, but this was the compromise the Ministry was forced to make."

"In other words, we're to be sacrificed for the sake of the younger generation?" Neville protested, "As though those snotty little shits deserve our sacrifice? Forgive me, Professor but I didn't go to war for our freedom only to be told I'm to sacrifice my happiness for those disrespectful little brats."

The sentiment was echoed around the hall and Hermione held her breath, waiting for another uproar.

"Unfortunately, Mr Longbottom, none of you have a choice. The Ministry have made it a law. And those who break the law face the consequences. In this instance that consequence is to spend an uncapped amount of time in Azkaban until you follow the law. Violent and otherwise ill-tempered response to the law will result in imprisonment. Continued revolt will see the guilty parties forced to give up their magic. If you do not agree to cooperate on this, you will be forcibly removed from the magical community and deposited, sans you magic, in the muggle world where you will be left to fend for yourselves."

Hermione sat in stunned disbelief, her eyes wide as she stared across the table at Harry. Harry stared back at her, looking equally disturbed.

"Professor?" Hermione asked cautiously as everyone began to mutter and more people throughout the hall began to cry. The shouting – indeed the fury – seemed to go out of everyone's sails at the punishment should they refuse the law.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall asked, giving her a tight smile.

"What, precisely, does this law entail? We're to be sorted into supposedly agreeable couples and to be wed as soon as the youngest member of each pairing completes their education. But then what? I assume a law based on needing to replenish the population comes with a reproduction clause?" Hermione asked, her voice carrying over the hall as her gaze scanned the faces of her classmates. She could feel their mounting horror as she spoke, her mind always five steps ahead and focusing on things they'd yet to even consider.

"Indeed it does, Miss Granger," McGonagall sighed again, "The Ministry has decreed that each pairing will be required to begin trying for children immediately after the wedding of each. Those who have already left the realm of education behind are expected to be wed within one year of their match being decreed. Each couple is expected to produce a minimum of four children."

"Four?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows and clearly wondering why that number had been selected.

"Four allows each couple to replace and double themselves within the next generation," McGonagall informed him tightly while even more people began to cry now. Most of the girls in the hall were crying over the notion of being teenage mothers within the next year or two.

"Erm, Professor?" a shy girl from the Hufflepuff table named Stacey Wiggins stood up, "What happens in instances where a person within the age-bracket is um… homosexual?"

"Anyone within the age-bracket who prefers the same sex will also be Sorted by the Sorting Hat and paired with anyone else of homosexual inclination. Those among you that do prefer the same sex will still be expected to marry someone of your sexual preference," McGonagall said.

"But Professor, how will…?" the girl trailed off, clearly blushing over the concern of how same-sex couples might reproduce and thus contribute to the law.

"Due to the unfortunate circumstances of the war, Miss Wiggins, a number of magical children are currently orphaned and even more are being given up by mothers who were sexually assaulted," Professor McGonagall informed them all tightly, causing more people to gasp, "These children need loving homes and families. Same-sex couples are to adopt from within the growing number of children currently in the care of the Ministry after being abandoned. With the aid of some muggle science, pregnancy is still achievable amongst same-sex pairings for those of you wishing to conceive children of your own. In those instances male same-sex partners wishing to participate in procreating will meet with female same-sex partners willing to conceive and birth children and go from there."

More crying ensued over that notion and Stacey retook her seat, her cheeks burning red. Hermione supposed that Stacey might prefer women to men and hadn't intended to so publicly announce her preference but didn't want to let her questions go unanswered.

"Several clauses of this law call for the cooperation of each pairing once the couples are all determined," Professor McGonagall went on, "Which include daily interaction and a number of classes and activities that you will be advised of later. For the time being the Ministry has requested of me that all of the boys currently in the room be scrutinized by the Sorting Hat before I can let all of you go to bed this evening. Keep in mind that you will only be required to come up here and sit on the stool with the hat on for a few minutes. The hat will examine each of you and store the information. In the coming days everyone else of wizarding Britain will be coming to the castle to be similarly sorted. As such we will be accommodating many new guests as of tomorrow."

"You want to sort us all right now?" Harry exclaimed.

"Just the boys, Potter," McGonagall told him, "Once all the boys are out of the way, the girls will take a turn and the hat will call out regarding the name of whichever boy or girl is best suited to and most compatible with that girl."

"This is a nightmare," Ginny informed Hermione seriously, "Not only do we get forced into a marriage, but I've got to sit up there and let that manky old thing tell me who I belong with? What if it does something awful like tries to put me with McMillan or someone? And in front of everyone. This whole lot and everyone else under twenty-five, all of them staring at me while the hat declares me fate? I think I'd rather off myself!"

Hermione nodded her agreement, unable to believe this was actually happening.


	2. Chapter 2: Matters of the Mind

**A/N:** **Thanks so much to everyone who has been leaving me reviews. You're such darlings. I hope you like this chapter. Much Love! xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Little Do You Know**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Matters of the Mind**

* * *

Draco Malfoy had been expecting the announcement upon their arrival. All of the senior Slytherin students had. A number of them had family on the Wizengamot and more still were simply aware of current events. Draco had known when he'd seen an article last week tallying the remaining magical community members at just 1100 members that something would be done to circumvent Tivorllo's Clause.

His study of magical history that focused on the law before he'd come to Hogwarts had been thorough beneath his father's tutelage. Draco had known something was going to happen. So when the announcement was made, he and his friends didn't utter a single word. Some of them were even happy about it, Draco knew. Pansy was. Her father had been angling for an arranged marriage between Pansy and an Arabian wizard twenty years her senior. She was utterly relieved to learn she would have to marry someone in the age-bracket who didn't exceed twenty-five. More importantly, she was thrilled to be allowed the chance to be paired with someone she was compatible with.

Draco had no clue who that might be, though he knew it wasn't him. He was fine with that. Salazar, he didn't even really object to the stupid law. He didn't much like the notion of being forced into a marriage he'd never have chosen on his own, but he had a sneaking suspicion of who he'd be paired with. He'd encountered her on the train, after all. He'd looked into her mind and read every thought flitting through her pretty little head. And the clever little witch didn't even know he'd done it.

He was rather proud of that fact. His Aunt might've been a horrid woman, completely unhinged and in desperate need of killing, but Aunt Bella had done one thing for him. She'd ensured he was both a powerful Occlumens and an even more power Legilimens. He could slip into the mind of his peers with just a glance into their eyes. He'd done it to Granger on the train. And he'd been startled by how much they had in common. It was clear to him that he'd have his work cut out for him, but Draco didn't need to get up in front of everyone and put on a manky old hat to tell him who he would be paired with.

It would be Granger. Draco was sure of it. He didn't have a single doubt.

The trick would be getting her to cooperate. That wasn't going to be easy. She'd been shocked when he'd collided with her on the train, but Draco had sensed the flare of her harsh dislike for him. She might've taken into account his saving her arse in the Manor last Christmas but she still hated him. Luckily for Draco he was particularly skilled at rummaging through the minds of others, even minds as busy as Granger's. He'd located a number of useful titbits of information to be used against her at a later date.

"Malfoy?" McGonagall called, distracting Draco from his ponderings, prodding his with one gnarled finger to get his attention.

"What was that, Professor?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows at the woman and noting her dislike for him too. He was used to it by now. It was no secret he was in disgrace and Draco could live with that.

"Your turn under the Hat," the witch told him and Draco nodded his head, clapping Goyle on the shoulder as he got to his feet. Goyle grunted at him with what sounded like a wish of good luck and Draco smirked at Theo across the table.

"See if you can actually get it to sit on your head this time, mate?" Blaise called after him, referring to their first year sorting when the hat hadn't even touched his hair before it put him in Slytherin.

"Careful, Draco," Theo warned him, "That bastard of a hat is an opinionated git."

Theo had clearly been up just before him, something that became clear as Theo was retaking his seat. He looked disgruntled and Draco got the feeling that much like Draco himself, his peers had undergone extreme changes of thought, opinion and perspective in the aftermath of the war. He didn't doubt that hat had uncovered some truths inside Theo's mind that the man didn't want to focus on. Draco knew Theo had them, he'd been inside Theo's mind too. He made a habit of secretly using Legilimens on his friends.

Feeling a little like he was walking to the gallows, Draco strolled up to the hat where the first years had been sorted earlier that evening. Lifting the shabby old piece of cloth from the stool, Draco plopped himself down into it before placing the hat upon his head.

 _Draco Malfoy, is if?_ The Hat's unique voice asked him shrewdly, _My but your mind has changed drastically since you were a lad, hasn't it?_

 _I don't know why you're bothering to waste your time, Hat,_ Draco thought at it in return _, I belong with Hermione Granger._

 _Granger? The Gryffindor girl? I seem to recall many a tale of you being horrid to her,_ the Hat retorted.

Draco sighed as the annoying contraption began to raid through his head with more vigour than Draco had ever endured under any Legilimens before. Not even the Dark Lord had been so thorough. Everything inside Draco's head was examined. His allegiances during the war. His love for his parents. His personal beliefs and values. Right down to some memories of his time on the Quidditch pitch, Draco's life was laid bare beneath the hat. The bloody thing muttered and chattered away inside his head, prodding about for more information on certain things and Draco realised the bastard thing was serious about its job.

When he opened his eyes, with the hat still examining his soul, Draco became aware of the fact that many in the hall were nudging each other and nodding towards him. They'd fallen silent but for the sniffles of some of the girls who still cried softly over the idea of the law. Draco let his eyes scan the hall carefully, taking in their faces. His gaze strayed to the Gryffindor table where the Golden Trio were all sitting. Even they were watching him. Draco got the sense that they were all eyeing him strangely because it was taking so long for the hat to examine him.

Draco wasn't surprised. He had a lot going on that most of these idiots had no clue about. As he scanned the faces, his gaze darted to Granger a number of times. Draco didn't know when she'd begun to intrigue him, exactly, but she did. From the wild curls in her hair that sent it cascading and curling every which way to the pout of her pink lips and right down to the bossy attitude she so often exhibited, the witch intrigued him.

 _You want to be paired with her?_ the hat asked him suddenly and Draco's eyes tore from the crowd to look upwards towards the hat.

 _Who else would you pair me with?_ Draco asked the hat in return, _You might not have looked in her mind for a long time, but I have. Enemies or not, she's compatible with me. You'll see that when you examine her head._

 _And the fact that she undoubtedly hates you, as your own perusal inside her mind has shown?_ The hat wanted to know and Draco rolled his eyes, earning a laugh from Blaise, who was watching him closely and looking utterly intrigued.

 _I can get by her hatred. She's everything I've been taught all my life not to approve of. Not to want. She's a contradiction to everything I knew before the war. She's brainy, she's brilliant and she drives me absolutely barmy,_ Draco informed the hat telepathically.

 _She'll flatten you, boy,_ the smug old hat informed him. _Run along now, I'm through with you._

 _Are you going to pair me with her?_ Draco wanted to know.

 _You'll have to attend the Sorting like everyone else to find out, you smug little blighter, off with you now!_

Draco snorted in amusement at the exasperated tone the hat had for him before he lifted it off his head.

"You better give me what I want," Draco threatened the hat seriously as he stood, placing it back on the stool. The bastard of a Hat blew a raspberry at him and Draco couldn't help but laugh as he walked away.

He noted with some amusement that the rest of his classmates didn't take anywhere near as long to be examined by the hat as he had done. He also noted the way everyone in the hall had begun to eye each other speculatively.

"What took you so bloody long?" Goyle grunted at Draco when he returned after only wearing the hat for two minutes.

"Some of us have more brains than others mate," Draco smirked at him, "Can I help it that you're all intellectually inferior?"

Pansy snorted.

"More like you have the most cracked soul and the poor bloody hat had to wade through rivers of mental instability to find anything useful to go classifying you with," she needled him, elbowing him in the side for good measure.

Draco laughed in spite of the teasing. He was pleased that since the war Pansy had ceased her ridiculous crush on him and decided being his friend was easier.

"We'll just wait until you put it on and the poor bloody hat screams in horror at the perversions in your mind, Pans," Draco drawled in return, knowing for a fact that the witch was a bit twisted. He slung his arm causally around her shoulder and ruffled her dark hair.

"Perversions?" she scoffed though he cheeks pinkened slightly.

"Ten sickles that Potter and his crew try to wheedle their way out of this using their fame?" Theo asked him, arms crossed over his chest. Draco could tell the man was put out by whatever the hat had uncovered inside his mind.

"I'll take that bet," Draco told him offering his hand to shake, "Potter hasn't protested aloud even once since this was announced. He doesn't look happy about it, mind you. But he won't wheedle his way out. Weaselbee might, if he can get away with it."

"Merlin, Draco, don't tell me you belong in the same-sex paring category," Blaise asked him suddenly, "If you cost me a hundred Galleons by announcing you're gay, I'm going to thump you."

"You've got a bet running with someone that I'm queer?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"With me," Theo nodded.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Then you owe Zabini a hundred galleons. I'm a skirt-chaser, boys."

"Potter doesn't do it for you?" Theo wanted to know, "You used to go on about him often enough that I'd swear you were in love. You were always spying on him and his cronies."

"How do you know I wasn't perving on Granger?" Draco retorted, smirking wildly at them. Pansy stilled beneath Draco's arm before she turned very slowly to look at him.

"What did that hat say to you?" she demanded, looking horrified, "Did you just hint at the idea of you fancying a mudblood?"

Draco's eyes flashed at her wording.

" _Don't_ use that word around me ever again, Parkinson," he warned in a low voice, "Blood Prejudice bullshit is through and I'll not have you or anyone else stirring it up again."

"Bloody hell," Goyle breathed, also staring at him with wide eyes, "You _do_ fancy her! I _knew_ it! Vince will be rolling in his grave. The git owes me twenty Galleons!"

"You had a bet running with Vince that I fancied Granger?" Draco demanded, his anger over the use of the word 'mudblood' forgotten.

"You didn't think we all tolerated your elitist, bossy bullshit without betting about your behind your back, did you?" Pansy asked him innocently before a wicked smirk spread across her face, "Daph and I had a bet running in fifth year about which one of us would pop your cherry. I won, of course."

"No you didn't," Draco retorted, smirking in return as she looked outraged.

"You shagged Daphne before you shagged me?" she demanded.

"I've never shagged Daph," Draco admitted, though he shot the blonde witch across the table a wink, "But you didn't get my cherry, Pans."

"Who did?" Pansy demanded, flying into a snit immediately.

"One of those visiting French birds from Beauxbatons in fourth year," Draco smirked even wider, "Chastity something."

"You shagged one of them?" Theo growled, "Blast it all, Draco now I owe Pucey ten galleons! You bastard!"

"Serves you right for betting against me," Draco shrugged, "I can't believe you thought I was into blokes. Into Potter. You need your head examined again, mate. By a Healer and not a barmy old Hat."

Everyone began to laugh when Theo took his tie off, balled it up and threw it at Draco's face.

"Don't go throwing tokens of your favour at me like you're some classy bird, Theo," Draco told him, "I'm not going to snog you."

"Oh, shove off, you tosspots! I'd rather snog Potter's bloody girlfriend and let him hex me into next week than get anywhere near your foul mouth," Theo rolled his eyes, snatching his tie back from Draco as he began to laugh as well.

"Now there's a bet in the making," Pansy purred, "Who wants to wager with me that Potter and his ickle girlfriend get separated by this bloody mess?"

"You're on, Pansy," Goyle grinned, leaning around Draco to shake her hand, "Ten sickles says Potter and that little redhead wind up paired."

"I'll throw in ten sickles that they elope before the girls all start getting paired off," Daphne piped up, "There's no way that tricky little lioness is going to let Potter slip through her claws after waiting a lifetime for him."

"You think they'll elope?" Draco asked him, realising that he supposed it was a possibility. Anyone already married would be exempt from the law.

"If I had a serious boyfriend, I'd be eloping," Daphne shrugged her slim shoulders.

"What if that moldy old hat determined that you were meant for someone you weren't dating?" Pansy asked, "Imagine if you ran off and eloped with Theo only to learn you're made for… I don't know, Longbottom?"

"Longbottom?" Daphne demanded, outraged, "You'd wish that bumbling oaf on me?"

"He's no oaf anymore," Tracy Davis piped up from further down the table, "Have you seen Longbottom this year? He's really fit. I wouldn't mind being paired with him. Or even just a few minutes in a broom closet would do."

"You have no shame!" Daphne laughed accusingly.

"What?" Tracy shrugged as well and Draco rolled his eyes. Tracy was a weird egg, in his opinion. Nice. Sweet even. She hardly belonged in Slytherin most of the time. She was sweet as pie with everyone – even the Gryffindors. At least, she was until she was on the rag. Then she turned into the she-beast from hell who would slice a man open for looking at her sideways. She was bonkers and Draco pitied the poor fool she was paired with.

"Do you think anyone will elope?" Pansy asked, turning to him, clearly intrigued by the idea.

"Some might. Nutters if they do though. I don't know, Pans, I reckon McGonagall's got all us blokes being examined now, right after hearing about this, because she knows we're reckless enough to elope, but not thick enough to try it after that Hat gets through with us," Draco told her, "I know for a fact that the things it uncovered in my head aren't about to let me go running off and eloping with you."

"Oh eww, as if I'd want to marry you?" she scoffed, rolling her eyes and Draco laughed. He'd dated her in fourth year and some of fifth, but they'd both since learned the error of their ways in that regard, "What did it say to you anyway?"

Draco just bounced his eyebrows at her and didn't answer, enjoying her put-out expression and not willing to share. He wondered idly what had so upset Theo and when the other boy glanced in his direction, Draco slipped into his mind with ease to satisfy his curiosity.


	3. Chapter 3: An Honorary Slytherin

**A/N: CHERUBS! Look how fantastic all of you are! I'm so pleased that you're so excited about this fic and that you're intrigued by Theo. He's fast becoming a favourite character of mine to play with. Expect more of him. Tell me what you think of this one so far? Isn't Draco a darling? Thank you so very much to all of you who've been leaving me such lovely reviews. You're such gems. As such, I think it only right to spoil you with juicy, speedy updates. Don't you? Much love! xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Little Do You Know**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 3: An Honorary Slytherin**

* * *

"Oi, Potter?" Draco Malfoy's drawling voice intruded on Hermione Granger's already foul mood two mornings after the announcement of the Marriage Law.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked, lifting his head from his perusal of his breakfast. With the entire sixth and seventh year class in an uproar, the teachers had postponed the first week of classes until after everyone could be matched up. People had been flooding into the school and swarming Hogsmeade village since the previous morning, overflowing the castle and catching up with old friends. Currently Oliver Wood, George Weasley, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnston were all loitering about the Gryffindor table near Harry, Ron and Ginny – making it particularly hard for Hermione to focus on the book she was reading.

She'd taken it upon herself to research Tivorllo's Clause in addition to wizarding marriage and she was not at all pleased with what she was learning.

"McGonagall said they aren't going to start sorting this mess out with the girls until after lunch," Malfoy drawled lazily, "Was wondering if you lot fancied a friendly Quidditch match until then?"

"You…" Harry seemed entirely too shocked for words.

"You actually think we'd want to play with you?" Ginny asked scathingly, making no secret of her distaste for Malfoy. Her expression certainly tacked the words ' _Death Eater Scum'_ on the end of her question though she didn't vocalise it.

"Hey if you don't want to, it's fine. Chang's got enough people together from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff to make a team if you lot are too good for us," Malfoy shrugged his shoulders.

"We do have a perfect team, Harry," Oliver pointed out, quickly counting that there were seven of the players for Gryffindor team, past and present, that were sitting around the table.

"Oi, Malfoy!" Harry called, getting to his feet to shout after the blonde who was already on his way back over to the Slytherin table. Hermione glanced towards the git when he turned towards then and cockily raised one eyebrow.

"You're on," Harry told him and Malfoy smirked widely.

"Alright," Malfoy said, strolling back towards them, "You lot need time to change into Quidditch gear and get your stuff?"

"Meet on the pitch in twenty minutes?" Ron suggested, "Who've you got playing for you anyway? I didn't think there were enough unwed Syltherins present to make a team?"

Malfoy grinned then, "Me, Goyle, Blaise and Theo will be playing. Marcus Flint's around here somewhere too and he's always up for a game. I sweet-talked Millicent into playing Keeper."

"You're a man short," Oliver pointed out, counting the players he mentioned.

"I know," Malfoy nodded, "So I'm going to need to borrow something of yours."

"What?" the Gryffindor team asked and Hermione watched the way Malfoy's grey eyes settled on her steadily, a wicked smirk curling across his face.

"What are you looking at?" Harry asked, "Hermione? You want Hermione to play for the Slytherin team?"

Ron started to snigger at the very idea.

"She can barely stay on a broom," Ron chortled gleefully, clutching his sides as though Malfoy had told the best joke he'd heard all year.

Hermione pursed her lips in annoyance over the comment. It wasn't that she couldn't fly or even that she didn't like to fly on a broom. She didn't like Thestrals or Hippogriffs for flying, but brooms were fine. And in fact she'd made a point of learning how to fly rather well when she lost patience with being taunted by Ron about being inadequate at something within the wizarding world when she was accomplished at everything else. His constant teasing about it had driven her to borrow Harry's Firebolt and practice while she and Harry had been on the run. She wasn't as good as Harry or Ron, or even Malfoy, but she could fly well enough to get by.

"What do you say, Granger?" Malfoy asked her, "Care to prove them wrong?"

Hermione bit her lip. She did want to prove Ron wrong. She'd love to rub his nose in her ability, actually. But she wasn't very good at Quidditch. And she had no idea what Malfoy was playing at to even ask her. Not even her friends knew she was a decent flier. Why would Malfoy persist enough to ask her? He seemed certain that she could, indeed, fly.

"I don't have a broom," she admitted, biting her bottom lip nervously.

Malfoy's smirk widened, "You can borrow my spare one."

"Um... I'm bad at Quidditch," she tried next, "I mean, I'm wretched at catching on the ground, let alone in the air."

"Good thing I won't be asking you to catch anything, isn't it?" Malfoy grinned, "I need an extra beater. With Crabbe gone, I'm a Beater down."

Hermione's eyes widened in alarm when she realised he had just played the ultimate guilt trip card to ensure she would play on his team for them. Crabbe had died in the fire in the Room of Requirement and they hadn't been able to save him.

"You realise she's never played Quidditch in her life, right Malfoy?" Ron was still chortling, "You'd be better off playing a man down than you would having Hermione play for you."

Hermione slanted a glare towards Ron in annoyance. What kind of boyfriend was so scornful of his girlfriend's supposed shortcomings? Had she legitimately been a rotten flier, his words would be rather hurtful.

"I'll take my chances with Granger. If she'll play?" Malfoy's smirk widened even more and Hermione found herself trapped in his mercury gaze.

"Why do you want Hermione to play for you?" Ginny asked suspiciously, "She's not about to help Slytherin win."

"It's only a friendly game to fill in some time and blow off some steam, Weasley," Malfoy rolled his eyes, "It's not like we're playing for house points or anything."

"Hermione, you'll fall off your broom and get yourself hurt," Ron protested, glancing at her.

"I..." Hermione bit her lip and glanced down at her book before looking over at Ron. Both the marriage law and Ron's attitude had her in a bad mood and she was feeling rather reckless anyway. Why not have a go at playing Quidditch? She could hardly graduate Hogwarts at the end of the year without saying she gave it a try. At least once.

"Hermione, no!" Ron protested, seeing the wheels turning in her mind, "I don't want you to get hurt. You know you're a rotten flyer. You belong in the stands while we play."

Ron's continued insistence flared Hermione's need to prove him wrong and Hermione knew Malfoy spotted the resolution in her eyes.

"I'll play," Hermione said defiantly and she heard Ginny, Harry and Ron all gasp in surprise.

"I'm commentating!" Lee Jorden announced, having appeared at the tail end of the conversation, "After lunch Ravenclaw can play Hufflepuff."

"They don't have enough players to make two whole teams," Malfoy shook his head, "Winner of our game plays Ravenpuff."

"Did you just combine the names of two houses into one name for the team?" Ginny asked, eyeing him like he might be batty.

"It's too much of a mouthful to say the whole two house names for one team. I'll let the Ravenpuffs know they're playing the winner of our game. You lot better be on the pitch in twenty minutes. Come on, Granger, I'll get you a broom."

Hermione hesitated before she got to her feet and moved towards him.

"You can't be serious Hermione?" Ron protested, "You're actually going to play for Slytherin? You can't even fly!"

"Can't I, Ron?" Hermione asked him, raising one eyebrow in an uncanny replica of the look Malfoy had used a few minutes ago.

"Oh hell," Oliver smiled suddenly, "You can fly, can't your Hermione? You've been hiding talent this whole time?"

Hermione didn't answer. Instead she took her book and followed Malfoy across the hall.

"You realise I actually don't know how to play, right Malfoy?" she asked him when she caught up to him as he reached the Slytherin table.

"All you have to do is fly around and whack bludgers at idiots like Weaselbee," Malfoy told her, still smirking, "If Goyle can do it, I think you'll figure it out."

"Oi!" Goyle protested, looking at him in annoyance over being called thick.

"What's she doing here?" Millicent Bulstrode demanded, eyeing Hermione like she might break her legs and use the bones for toothpicks. Hermione didn't like to think unkind thoughts about her classmates, but she was sure Bulstrode had to be half-troll based on her aggressive nature.

"She's playing Beater for us against Gryffindor," Malfoy told them, "Everyone grab your brooms and get to the pitch. Flint, you borrow Goyle's second broom alright?"

"Nah, I've got mine," Marcus Flint grinned at him, "Wasn't about to come back to Hogwarts for this bullshit and not bring my broom. I've missed that pitch. Practically lived on it while I was in this place."

Hermione eyed the Slytherins with some concern.

"You don't actually mean to take a book onto the pitch, do you Granger?" a broody looking boy in dark robes with dark hair that fell into his eyes asked her seriously, though he smirked a little. Hermione recognised him as Theodore Nott.

"What?" Malfoy asked, turning to her and frowning a little when he saw the book she was carrying, "Oh, bloody hell Granger! Really?"

"What else was I supposed to do with it?" Hermione protested, "I couldn't just leave it at the Gryffindor table."

"Why didn't you give it to Potter to take back to your common room?" Blaise Zabini asked.

"That would be the equivalent of leaving it at the Gryffindor table," Hermione answered, "Only it would be worse because it would end up somewhere between here and Gryffindor Tower and then Madam Pince would take it out of my hide for losing a library book."

"You seriously expect her to play for us?" Millicent asked Malfoy doubtfully, "She's a Gryffindor. And a bookish little nerd. Can you even fly, Granger?"

Hermione opened her mouth to protest being insulted again.

"She can fly," Malfoy answered, cutting Hermione off before she could defend herself, "Come on, you lot, let's get our stuff."

He snagged Hermione's elbow and tugged her along with them as they all left the hall. The news that there was a friendly game going on shortly spread like wildfire through the castle and that Hermione Granger had been asked to play for Slytherin was cause for much chatter. Hermione knew many of them were only heading down to the pitch on that blustery morning to see her fail at flying and she clutched her book a little tighter.

"Would you stop yanking on my arm?" Hermione hissed as Malfoy tugged at her again when they reached the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room, "I'm not going in there."

"Yes you are," Malfoy informed her, "Come on. You can't play in those clothes."

Hermione squawked in protest, causing the rest of the Slytherins to laugh at her when Malfoy tugged her through the entrance and into their gloomy common room. The sight of the depths of the Black Lake through the common room windows was rather awe-inspiring and Hermione blinked curiously as she spotted what must be the Giant Squid lounging on one of the window ledges, its tentacle waving slightly in the currents.

"You coming?" Malfoy called from across the common room and Hermione glanced towards him, seeing Nott, Zabini, Goyle, Flint and Malfoy descending the stairs deeper into the lake. Hermione raised her eyebrows, surprised to learn their dormitories were even further under the lake.

"Do you imagine I'm foolish enough to be lured into the Seventh year Slytherin boy's dormitory?" Hermione asked when she was half-way across the room and she noticed Millicent taking a different staircase. Flint was ahead of the others, clearly intent on borrowing something from Goyle for the game.

"And here I thought you were going to blindly cooperate the whole way," Malfoy smirked at her, "Come on. Today you're an honorary Slytherin team Quidditch player and I swear on my magic I won't let the boys lay a finger on you in my dormitory."

"Why can't you just bring your spare broom back up with you?" Hermione protested.

"Oh come on, Granger," Zabini shouted, "We're not going to lay a hand or a wand on you. Wizard's honour."

"I'll hex them if they try," Theo offered, glancing over his shoulder and grinning at her.

"That's a nice sentiment," Hermione replied drolly, "But five prejudiced pureblood wizards in their prime against one slightly below average sized muggleborn witch - even one as clever as me - is not a reassuring or safe situation. I'm not going down there."

"Are you this difficult about everything?" Malfoy asked, still smirking, "Do you balk this much at going into Potter's dorm? You're not a prude Granger, I _know_ you've been in there."

"I'm dating Ron, of course I've been in there," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You can't play in those bulky clothes, witch," Millicent said, appearing from the girl's stairs in Quidditch garb and Hermione realised with a start that she must've been on the team already, "You'll be slower than a pregnant snail in this wind. Just go with Draco and let him give you something to wear. I'll escort you, if you're so worried."

"Actually that would make me feel slightly better," Hermione admitted, biting her lip.

Millicent laughed at that and lumbered towards the boys stairs while Hermione descended them into the bowels of the Slytherin boy's dormitories. Hermione suspected she might be going where no Gryffindor had ever ventured before and it was terribly unnerving.

"You realise, don't you, that you'd have been safer with me and the boys than you are with Milly here, right Granger?" Malfoy asked her as he led her into the room. It was messy as only a boy's room could be, but neater than Harry and Ron's dormitory.

"What? Why?" Hermione asked, watching Millicent go over to Goyle and snatch his beater's bat out of his hand before clobbering him with it as he tried to change into his Quidditch gear. Goyle shoved the boisterous witch in return, grumbling about being hit and muttering dark threats

"She's into women," Malfoy told her, beckoning her to what was undoubtedly his four-post bed and kicking his trunk open.

"Oh," Hermione said, "I didn't realise that."

"She'll perve on you. The rest of us might've been persuaded to be gentlemen," Malfoy grinned, "Give me that."

He snatched the book out of her hands and tossed it on the end of his bed.

"I'll need that back, later," Hermione informed him, protesting the theft but momentarily distracted by the fact that Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini were both in the process of stripping out of their everyday robes to don Quidditch jerseys. Hermione marvelled at the fact that the jerseys carried Chaser numbers and their names. She didn't think either boy was actually on the house team. Perhaps they simply preferred the colour and needed them for games between each other when all the purebloods got together. Did they have backyard games like Harry and the Weasley's did at the Burrow? Did they simply choose to have jerseys made for their personal use, putting their excessive amounts of money to use?

"Put this on when you stop drooling Granger," Malfoy drawled at her, shoving a set of green and white Slytherin robes towards her. Hermione took them automatically, blinking in shock at the sight of Malfoy similarly disrobed. All three boys shirtless was a sight she'd never imagined seeing and one she could honestly have done without. Mostly because they were entirely too pretty for anyone's peace of mind. Now how was she going to concentrate? No male had the right to be that fit and that ripped whilst continuing to be so lean. Sure, she'd seen both Harry and Ron without their shirts before, but this was another level of perfect. Theo's skin was a rich shade of olive. Blaise looked utterly delectable, his dark skin flawless over lean muscle. And Malfoy looked like an angel. That halo of blonde hair paired with the long, lean flesh encased in unblemished alabaster skin was like sensory overload.

"I can't wear this," Hermione informed him when she looked down and noticed he'd given her one of his Quidditch jerseys. It was clearly one from a few years back, since it looked like it would no longer fit his wiry, broad-shouldered frame, but nonetheless, it bore the number seven and the name Malfoy.

"Just put it on, witch," Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"I don't have a death wish, you know?" Hermione huffed, "If I wear this everyone on the Gryffindor team will aim their bludgers at me as soon as they see the name Malfoy, thinking they're aiming at you."

"You're playing Beater," Malfoy rolled his eyes, "That's kind of the point. You'll have a bat to pelt bludgers back at them and I know for a fact that you want to clobber Weasley with one for being such an arrogant, condescending prat."

"I hardly think you have the right to call anyone arrogant, Malfoy," Hermione retorted.

Begrudgingly Hermione realised she wasn't going to be given anything else to wear and she really didn't fancy the idea of trying to fly about in her bulky zip-up hoodie and overcoat. Especially not over the top of the slightly-too short summer dress she'd paired with black tights. Sighing again in utter annoyance and beginning to wish she hadn't agreed to play for them for the morning game, Hermione removed her overcoat and unzipped her hoodie, grateful suddenly that she had donned a black tank top that morning under her summer dress.

When she stripped the dress off over her head as well without a second thought – managing to forget she was in a room with six Slytherin idiots rather than Harry, Ron or Ginny – they all wolf whistled.

"Blimey Granger," Goyle exclaimed.

"Who knew you had all that going on under your robes?" Millicent smirked, eyeing Hermione's slim figure appreciatively all clad in tight-fitting black fabric.

"I knew," Hermione shrugged, realising that scolding this lot would only make them torment her even more. "It's hardly my fault the rest of you were too thick to notice."

Malfoy leered at her.

"You know, Granger," Blaise Zabini sauntered over – still shirtless and making it hard for Hermione to think rationally, "If I'd known you had all this sass and sexiness going on, I'd have asked you on a date years ago."

"And I'd have agreed, of course," Hermione retorted cattily, rolling her eyes before pulling the jersey Malfoy had given her on over her head, grateful when the long sleeves and too-large fit covered her once more. It was too long on her, falling below her bum and almost to mid-thigh. Hermione knew they were made long to provide better protection and to keep from riding up in the wind during a match.

"Naw, doesn't she look cute with the name 'Malfoy' stamped across her chest," Theodore teased.

"Green suits you, Granger," Millicent informed her seriously, eyeing her from head to toe, "Who'd have known?"

"I could have been in Slytherin, you know," she informed them all primly as she fished her wild curls out of the jersey neck before rolling the sleeves up over her hands, noticing idly that they were too long for her too, flopping down over her hands.

"You're muggle-born," Theo rolled his eyes, clearly doubtful.

"The hat wanted to put me in Slytherin before taking that into account," Hermione replied seriously, reaching up to secure her wild hair into a neat bun. She used her wand to charm it into place so that it wouldn't get in her face or tangle terribly in the wind while she flew. Something she'd learned the hard way.

"You?" Malfoy scoffed at her, "What cunning have you got?"

"Logic and ambition are also Slytherin qualities," Hermione replied, "In first year the hat told me I was too logical for my own good. I think it was alarmed by my analytical skills."

All of the Slytherins looked a little stunned by the very notion, clearly unnerved about the idea of her being in their midst.

"Someone's going to have to give me a rundown of what to do," she went on as though she hadn't seen their expressions, "I tend to tune out Quidditch chatter."

"You'll need this," Malfoy told her, handing her a beater's bat, "The basic idea is whack at every bludger that comes your way, keep the bludgers away from the rest of us when you can and don't get in the way of the Chasers while they score the points or my way when I'm after the snitch."

"Oh, helpful." Hermione rolled her eyes, "I'd figured that much out for myself. Do I need to know anything special?"

"Just don't flog the bludgers at us, Granger," Millicent replied, "You realise this means you're going to have to aim at your friends?"

"Of course," Hermione nodded, "Ron deserves it."

"I knew you were getting snotty with him," Malfoy smirked as he pressed his Nimbus Two Thousand and One into her hands; his Firebolt leaning against his bedpost, "Why do they think you don't know how to fly?"

"Because I've never corrected them," Hermione shrugged, holding still when Goyle lumbered over with protective pads and began strapping them to her forearms while Malfoy began strapping some to her shins. The rest of them wore the same thing to protect against shattering the finer bones in the event of bludger collision.

"But you can fly, right?" Zabini asked her, "I seem to recall you being a bit mediocre at it in first year flying lessons."

"I was rubbish at it until last year," Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "And then I practiced and got better at it."

"You had time to teach yourself to fly last year?" Malfoy asked her, looking intrigued now.

"I spent most of the year on the run and living in a tent with only Harry for company," Hermione rolled her eyes, "I nicked his broom and flew around whenever he was asleep and I was on watch."

"And they all have no clue that you can fly?" Flint asked, finally speaking. He'd been leaning against the wall and watching the scene looking mildly bored until that moment.

"Ron will most likely fall off his broom when he sees me," Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "I mean, I'm not spectacular at it or anything… but I won't fall off without being pushed off or knocked off."

"Good," Malfoy nodded his head, stepping back from her when she was properly garbed for a Quidditch match, "If you lot are ready we should get out there and warm up. Make sure Granger doesn't need to be promptly replaced."

"You realise your friends are going to call you a traitor if you whack them with bludgers playing for us, right Granger?" Theo asked her.

"It's just a game," Hermione sighed, "They'll get over it. I mean it's their favourite game, but… well this is what they get for never asking me to play."

With that said, the Slytherins seemed satisfied. Hermione left her dress, her coat and her hoodie in Malfoy's room along with her library book, folded and piled neatly on top of his trunk.

"Blimey I hate stairs," Flint grumbled as they climbed back towards the Slytherin common room, "I'd forgotten how bloody far it is back up out of here."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the older boy, feeling spry as she raced up the stairs on light feet in her dragon-hide boots.

"How do you have the energy for that?" Goyle grumbled at her as she climbed.

"Oh please," Hermione rolled her eyes, "Do you have any idea how many steps there are between the Great Hall and Gryffindor Tower?"

"Too bloody many," Millicent grumbled.

"Three thousand, four hundred and seventeen. And that's via the most direct route when the staircases don't go changing about half-way there," Hermione corrected her, "This meagre sixty is shorter than some of the staircases up to where I live."

"You climb that bloody far every day?" Millicent asked, looking horrified.

"Why do you think I carry everything around in my bag? Do you know how inconvenient it is to get to the bottom of that many stairs and realise you've forgotten something?" Hermione asked her.

"And I used to whinge about living in the dungeons," Theo shook his head at himself.

Hermione laughed at their horrified expressions as she raced up the rest of the stairs and was barely puffing by the time she reached the top.

"Remind me never to test one of you Gryffindor bastards in an endurance race," Flint exclaimed, clutching at his side as though he had a cramp just from the stairs.

When she reached their common room – before the rest of them – Hermione dashed over to the window where she could see the Giant Squid squashed up against the glass there. Tapping on it like a naughty child at the zoo, Hermione watched the enormous creature's slimy body ripple and shudder.

"Don't do that," Malfoy appeared behind her, snatching her back just in time for the Squid to spin around and stare in at her with it's enormous eyes even as it thrashed it's giant tentacles against the glass with a loud thump. Hermione jumped in his hold, shocked by the reaction.

"He gets annoyed about it after the first day. Does it to deter the inquisitive first years," Malfoy informed her and Hermione realised belatedly that she was pressed back against his chest.

"So I'm not the only one to act like a child and tap on the glass when he's resting?" she clarified in a small voice, her heart racing a little in surprise.

"You're the first seventh year I've ever seen do it," Malfoy offered, smirking at her.

"Oh good, two records in one day. I'm on a roll," Hermione replied, stepping away from him and making for the exit as though nothing had happened.

"Tormenting the Squid, Granger?" Theo laughed when he caught sight of her pink cheeks.

"I'm a curious person," was all Hermione offered in retort before marching out of the Slytherin common room in Malfoy's spare jersey, with Malfoy's spare broom balanced on her shoulder. She climbed the stairs to the Entrance Hall before crossing it quickly. She and the rest of the Slytherin team spilled out onto the grounds of Hogwarts and headed for the Quidditch pitch. Hermione liked to think that her defiantly raised chin hid her nervousness.


	4. Chapter 4: More Than You Should

**A/N: Look how I'm spoiling you! So many updates this week and you've all been so good about leaving me reviews. I do hope you're enjoying my masterpieces, are you? I can't wait for you to read this chapter. I can't wait to hear what you think of this one. More soon across all my WIPs, I promise. Don't forget to review! Much love! xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Little Do You Know**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 4: More Than You Should**

* * *

Draco Malfoy was smirking to himself as he watched Granger strutting around in his jersey. He could tell she was nervous. Though whether that was regarding the reaction she would receive to be sporting his jersey, her fear of flying, or her concern over playing a game she'd never played in front of a swath of people whilst siding with the enemy, Draco couldn't tell. She looked like a bloody Malfoy with his jersey on, if he was honest.

She'd tamed her wild hair in a bun with a securing charm, and she swaggered just a little bit. He was sure it wasn't on purpose. It was probably just an unconscious grace that she sported when she wasn't lugging a library's worth of textbooks around in her schoolbag and when she wasn't clad in five layers of fabric that made her look frumpy. The fact that she looked like any cocky Quidditch player helped too.

If he was honest, Granger looked hot. There was no other word for it. She looked downright sexy in his spare gear, even if it was a little big on her. She toted the broom on one shoulder, the Beater's bat swinging loosely from her other hand and she held her chin up high. People who'd spotted them exiting the dungeons and heard about the game followed them down to the pitch, many of the muttering about Granger in his jersey and a few of them cat-calling at her for being a traitor to her house.

Someone had apparently alerted Madam Hooch to the idea of them all having a friendly game with some of the ring-ins because the witch waited in the centre of the pitch when Draco and his team spilled through onto to pitch. The school game set sat at her feet waiting to be used and she had her trusty whistle at the ready to call a foul if need be. The majority of folks who were staying at the school for this Marriage Law mess were filling up the stands and more still could be seen making their way up from Hogsmeade.

"You alright, Granger?" Millicent asked, "You look like you might be sick."

"I'm fine," Granger faked, though she didn't smile. Draco could tell she was suddenly regretting agreeing to play, even if it did mean she could belt bludgers at Weasley for being a git.

She looked even worse, her face paling when the Gryffindor team arrived while Draco and his team were stretching and warming up. She'd fallen to the same tactics, stretching her muscles and copying him as he pulled all the muscles in his limbs this way and that to make sure he wouldn't tear something later. The sight of Potter and his team all coming at them was rather intimidating, actually. Blaise, Theo and Granger didn't usually play Quidditch – especially not for the team. Oh, Blaise and Theo knew what they were doing and played muck-about games with the rest of them in the holidays at the Manor but they never played for the school.

Granger, of course, had never played Quidditch in her life and never even trained to.

The sight of the seven seasoned Quidditch nuts on the Gryffindor team was an intimidating one.

"If you hurl, aim for Weasley's shoes, would you love?" Blaise asked, slinging his arm around Granger in a way that was almost protective when she swayed slightly as though she might faint.

"No promises," she managed through pursed lips.

"Oi, Granger, knock that faint looking shit off when you're wearing my jersey," Draco needled her, sensing that she needed her righteous anger back, "No one wearing the Malfoy name gets to look that pathetic. They're your bloody friends, not armed assassins. Pull it together, witch."

He smirked to himself when she straightened her shoulders, sending him a glare before shrugging Blaise's arm off her shoulders and he knew she was back to being shitty and therefore not likely to faint. She was too much of a spitfire for fainting when she was mad.

"Hermione?" Weaselette asked, looking shocked at the sight of Hermione all robed up for a match.

"Ginny," Granger managed a smirk worthy of any Malfoy and Draco grinned. That was more like it.

"Oh my Merlin! Are you wearing Malfoy's jersey?" the witch asked her, "You look like one of them. Bloody hell, you _look_ like a Malfoy."

"I'm supposed to look like part of the team," Granger shrugged, annoyance sparking in her brown eyes at being told she looked like him.

"Blimey, Hermione," Weaselbee exclaimed, "You look hot. Or you would if you weren't dressed as the enemy."

Granger levelled her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend a nasty glare.

"We both know I look hotter dressed as the enemy, Ronald," she retorted, turning the venom she usually used on Draco and his friends back on her own mates.

Weaselbee had clearly grown cocky since the war because he smirked at her slowly, "I'll still snog you better when you come off that broom, love, don't worry."

"Alright you lot, you know the drill," Madam Hooch called for their attention, interrupting the way the Gryffindors were eyeballing Granger like she'd grown a second head. His own mates were smirking widely at the way Granger ignored Weasley's dig at her flying ability, cracked her neck and then her knuckles, before preparing to play. It was obvious to Draco that though she claimed not to know much about the game, she'd witnessed a hundred of them.

"Captains shake hands," Hooch instructed and Draco moved towards Potter. Everyone stopped and began to laugh when Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood also moved towards one another like they would shake hands, temporarily reliving their own days on the house teams when they'd been captains.

"Well, this is awkward," Wood chuckled, before offering his hand to Marcus anyway. Draco rolled his eyes and shook Potter's hand, smirking when the specky git tried to crush his hand.

"Right. On my whistle! Three; two; one!" the shrill screech of the whistled announced the beginning of the game and Draco shot into the air. He was impressed when he caught sight of Granger doing the same as the balls were released. She shot off after a bludger immediately.

"Holy shit!" Weaselbee shouted, "Hermione can _fly_!"

Draco rolled his eyes, flying higher, his eyes scanning for the snitch.

"Jonhston with the Quaffle!" Lee Jordan was yelling into the microphone as the game took off, "Johnston to Bell. Bell to Weasley. AND it's blocked by Bulstrode!"

Draco watched the game play with interest. Wood had taken his usual place as Keeper, usurping Weaselbee's position. Instead he and the one-eared twin were both playing Beater. Goyle slammed a bludger right at Bell's head, nearly taking her out. Draco darted a glance around, keeping an eye out for Potter, the snitch and Granger.

Twenty minutes in, Slytherin was up by fifty points and Granger was Gryffindor's least favourite girl. She'd managed to whack a bludger at Potter that unseated the bastard on his broom when he'd been diving for the snitch. In fact he'd been low enough to the ground that he came off his broom, rolled ten metres and lay sprawled on the ground in shock. She'd been viciously targeting her boyfriend too, being sure to fly circles around the ginger haired bastard and Draco was having the best game of Quidditch he'd had in ages.

Granger was like a vicious little hornet as she tore around on Draco's spare broom. She played like she'd been doing it her whole life. She also had a mean right hook that she was using to devastating effect with her bat. She might not be big and burly like most Beaters, but she was fast. Fast enough to keep up with the bludgers when she really floored it. Draco crowed happily when she flogged a bludger that George Weasley had sent at Draco right back across the pitch and clocked Oliver Wood with it.

"Damn it Ron," Potter was screaming at his best mate, "I don't care if she's your girlfriend, take her out!"

They'd clearly stopped caring that she might get hurt or that she was new to the game. The entire Gryffindor team was outraged at her skill. Draco himself was rather impressed and downright pissed that the little snit was literally good at everything in the wizarding world.

"Would you hurry up and catch the snitch?" she snarled at him, suddenly appearing and doing a loop-the-loop around him, "Maybe before my friends never forgive me? You're not even trying!"

"You telling me how to do my job, Granger?" Draco cocked at eyebrow.

"Considering the snitch is hovering by your left knee while you watch this carnage? Yeah, I am!" snapped. Draco glanced in that direction.

"Oi! Fuck, Granger!" he snarled when the bitch whacked him across the back of the head with her bat. She tore off again, racing after a bludger that was heading for Millicent and slamming it towards Ginny Weasley before it could connect with the Slytherin keeper.

Draco was too furious with her bluff and her assault to cheer this time, but the witch had a wicked arm. He'd never hit the speed she was coaxing out of that Nimbus. Oh, he had. On his Firebolt. But he'd never managed to speed so fast on his Nimbus as Granger was managing. He was a sight bigger than her, build-wise. Her lighter weight and slimmer build allowed for greater speed. Something she needed with this bloody wind. It was lucky she hadn't been blown right off the broom and out of the air, actually, but she didn't seem phased. Any fear she'd had of flying had clearly been forgotten.

"Someone take her down!" Angelina Johnston shouted when Granger slammed into her side and knocked the quaffle from Johnston's grip. The most unnerving thing about the entire performance was her killer focus, coupled with the fact that every single time she clobbered someone she shouted out an apology. Even as she collided with Ginny Weasley from the right hand side and nearly sent the red-head flying, she shouted out a sweet-sounding apology to her friends.

She was utterly deadly.

Just like her focus in a classroom, she was entirely caught up in the game. She never broke a rule. She'd yet to earn a foul. And she was apologising to the other team for her effectiveness.

"I swear," Blaise shouted when he ripped up on Draco's right hand side with the quaffle in his arms, "When this is over, I'm going to snog that bloody witch!"

"You're a bit late mate," Draco replied drily, looking on as Ron Weasley came out of nowhere, accosting his green and white clad girlfriend and wrapping his big arms around the little witch. She shrieked in surprised before he cut off the sound by planting a wet looking snog on her lips.

"Bloody traitor!" Flint snarled, coming up on Draco's other side and taking the pass of the quaffle from Blaise, "ARGH!"

Flint screamed and dropped the quaffle when the other Weasley Beater landed a lucky bludger against Flint's left forearm. The sickening crunch told Draco it was broken and he snagged his wand from inside his left-leg greave to perform a quick healing charm.

"I'm going to kill that ginger bastard!" Flint snarled, his fury always coming to life on the Quidditch pitch. Tearing off after the Gryffindor Chasers as they raced back up the pitch, whizzed past Millicent and scored, Flint collided heavily with the snogging pair on their brooms, dislodging Weasley from Granger, snatching her bat and beating her boyfriend around the head with it.

"It was the other Weasley, Flint!" Theo shouted, zooming by with the quaffle in his possession and three irate Gryffindor witches on his tail.

Flint shrugged as Ron sagged on his broom, looking dazed.

"Ron? You alright?" Granger shouted over the roar of the wind.

"Oi!" Draco yelled at her, zooming closer, "Leave your boyfriend be and help Milly! We're getting hammered!"

In the minutes while Granger had been snogged, Gryffindor had scored three times.

"Shove it, Malfoy," Granger sneered at him before she zoomed towards him. Draco ducked her wildly swinging foot as she barely cleared his head before she pelted a bludger he hadn't seen coming at him from behind, courtesy of George Weasley.

"THIS IS THE BEST MATCH I'VE SEEN IN YEARS!" Lee Jordan shouted over the microphone, "WHY THE HELL HAS Hermione GRANGER NEVER PLAYED FOR THE GRYFFINDOR TEAM? I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW SHE COULD FLY! POTTER, IF YOU DON'T RECRUIT HER FOR THE SCHOOL MATCHES I'M NOT GETTING YOU A CHRISTMAS PRESENT!"

Draco laughed at the comment while Potter flipped Jorden the bird.

"AND IT'S ZABINI WITH THE QUAFFLE NOW. PASSES TO NOTT. PASSES TO FLINT. BACK TO NOTT. DAMN IT KATIE, KICK THE BASTARD!" Jordan shouted as Nott smirked at her, looped her and scored upside down whilst managing to brush a kiss across her cheek.

"THERE'S MORE BLOODY SNOGGIGN GOING ON IN THIS MATCH THAN EVER IN ALL OF HISTORY SINCE 1892 WHEN JACINTA LOCKYER OF THE HARPIES PLAYED HER HUSBAND FRANK ON THE CANNONS! KNOCK IT OFF YOU LOT AND PLAY SOME FUCKING QUIDDITCH!"

Draco spotted the snitch lurking above the Gryffindor stands and made a wild dive for it. Potter collided heavily with him and Draco nearly groaned when his bad shoulder gave a nasty twinge. Steeling himself, Draco returned the shove.

"When this is over," Potter shouted at him as the snitch flittered out of sight once more and they both pulled out of the dive, "I'm recruiting her to my team. And then you lot are screwed for the real matches."

"Bring it on Potter," Draco sneered, "By the time I'm done with her, Granger will never play Quidditch again."

Potter's eyes widened in alarm behind his glasses before Draco tore away from the git, searching for the snitch once more. Things were getting vicious on the pitch now. Flint was in a foul mood and Wood kept shouting things from the goal-end. Goyle was pelting every Bludger he encountered at Wood while Granger handled the rest of the team with such efficiency that Draco knew he'd have to maim her if they didn't win this bloody match. There was no way she could be allowed to play for Gryffindor this year. She was too bloody good.

It was hardly fair. She was supposed to be shite at something. Why couldn't it have been Quidditch?

Madam Hooch blew the whistle to call half-time an hour into the game as the morning wore on. Draco zoomed for the ground, finding Granger on the way down and flying abreast with her until she touched down. She made a sound as she hit the ground that almost went unnoticed by everyone. Draco heard it though. A moan of relief as her feet touched solid ground and he realised with a jolt that reckless as she was and bloody skilled as she seemed, she was completely terrified up there in the air.

Before she could protest, Draco ducked behind her, squatted a bit and lifted the little witch up onto his shoulders to a roar of approval from the rest of the Slytherin team.

"Malfoy!" she screeched, "Put me down this instant! What do you think you're doing?"

Draco winced when she bopped him on the head with her bat. Clutching her broom and her bat, she had no choice but to grip him with her legs and Draco smirked wickedly at her boyfriend across the pitch when she tucked her feet under Draco's arms and around his back to cling to him, trying to steady herself so she wouldn't topple from his shoulders.

"She's fucking brilliant!" Millicent shouted when she landed, nearly sending Granger flying off Draco's shoulders and making the smaller witch grunt when Milly clapped her on the back enthusiastically.

"You realise we can never allow her to play for Gryffindor?" Theo asked, though he was grinning at Granger too.

"You're all being ridiculous," she announced, "Now put me down Malfoy or I'll hit you again."

"Did you see that fall Potter took?" Blaise was crowing, "That was a thing of beauty Granger. I was concerned you'd go soft on your friends. Remind me never to cross you, yeah? If this is how you treat your friends, I never want to be your enemy."

Draco stayed quite as he walked into the sheds with Granger still on his shoulders.

"They'll never forgive me," Granger was protesting, "Am I being too rough? I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Don't even think about toning it down, Granger," Flint growled, bearing his teeth and revealing he was still furious with the other team about his broken arm.

"How's the arm, mate?" Draco asked him, still refusing to let the witch on his shoulders down.

"Aches like hell," Flint admitted.

"What happened to your arm?" Granger asked him, blinking.

"While you were snogging your bloody boyfriend, his brother flogged a bludger at me and broke my arm!" Flint grumbled.

"You've been playing with a broken arm?" Granger asked, and Draco could hear the alarm in her voice, "Malfoy, hold this would you, if you're not going to put me down?"

She handed the broom to him and tucked the bat between her stomach and the back of his head before she jerked her wand out of its holder in her leg greave.

"I can heal it for you, Flint," she offered and Draco marvelled at her ability to sound so genuinely concerned about it.

How could one witch take her terror of flying out on her friends and her teammates on the pitch, apologise for every offence – sweet as pie - and still sound like she cared about the wellbeing a bloke who'd been a Death Eater and her enemy in the war a few months ago?

"I already did," Draco told her, tipping his head back to sneer at her.

"Badly, if it's still hurting," she retorted.

Flint apparently agreed because he rolled up his sleeve, unbuckling his arm-greaves to do so.

"Oh," she gasped softly and Draco saw Marcus blanch when he realised he'd just showed the muggle-born witch the remnants of the Dark Mark tattooed into the flesh of his left forearm.

"Ah, shit," Marcus cursed quietly and Draco felt Granger tense on his shoulders.

"Put me down, please Malfoy," she said quietly, tension fizzing inside the shed as Marcus stared at his own forearm as though it had betrayed him.

"You don't want me to do that," Draco informed her, "If I put you down Blaise means to snog you."

"What?" she hissed, and Draco winced when she gripped his messy blonde hair tightly in one fist.

"It's true, love," Blaise smirked at her, "You play like the Devil's Mistress."

Marcus looked uncomfortable as Blaise attempted to distract the witch, slowly rolling his sleeve back down and Draco watched the bloke hang his head slightly. He'd never seen any of the Death Eater brethren other than himself look ashamed for having been branded during the war and Draco wondered if the Mudblood on his shoulders knew the power she held.

"Episky," she whispered, and Draco watched Marcus flinch slightly before his arm quivered a bit.

"Shit, that hurt," Marcus cursed softly.

She'd healed him. She'd looked a former Death Eater's past right in the face and then she'd healed him anyway. Marcus had been vocal during the war about loathing mudbloods and now he was playing Quidditch and being healed by one. He was looking ashamed of hating people like her. Draco shook his head slowly in disbelief while the rest of the team followed suit, all of them looking surprised and a bit ashamed of themselves for their past transgressions.

"Oi, Hermione?" Weasley's voice interrupted the tension and Granger jerked on Draco's shoulders in surprise, almost toppling backwards. She would've had Draco not reached up and gripped her right knee tightly until she righted her balance.

"What the bloody hell are you doing, woman? Malfoy, put her down!" Weasley demanded.

He stormed into their shed and right up to Draco, reaching for Granger like he owned her.

"Piss off Weasley," Draco retorted, skittering back a few steps.

"She's my bloody girlfriend, ferret, put her the fuck down!" Weasley snarled, clearly furious.

"Malfoy, let me down," Granger insisted again.

"No. If I let you down, he'll drag you out of here and over to the Gryffindor shed. And they'll guilt trip you into sitting out the second half. Or he'll kill Blaise for snogging you. Trust me, having the git in the room won't keep Blaise at bay," Draco told her, "Weasley get the fuck out of our sheds."

"Give me my bloody girlfriend!" Weasley snarled in response.

"She's mine today, Weasley," Draco smirked at the ginger haired git nastily, "You can't just barge into the opposition's sheds and demand ownership of a player. Right now Granger's an honorary Slytherin and you're breaking the rules. Get out or I'll have you disqualified."

"Malfoy!" Granger protested, her fingers still tight in his hair.

"Quiet, woman," Draco told her, patting her thigh reassuringly, "He only wants to berate you about your flying skills again."

Granger sighed. Draco suspected from the sound that she realised he wasn't going to let her down, no matter what she said or what Weasley did.

"Just go, Ron," she told the ginger, "I'll see you out there."

Weasley looked like he wanted to protest some more. Draco could tell from the look in his eyes that Weasley was going to target him relentlessly with Bludgers in the next half of the game.

"You broke a few of Harry's ribs," Weasley told the witch as he turned to leave, "And Ginny's got three broken fingers."

"What?" Granger yelped.

"Leave off, Weasley," Theo spoke up, "They've both suffered worse in matches before this one."

Weasley scowled in response before he turned on his heels and stomped out of the shed once more.

"Granger if you play any less fiercely," Draco began in a threatening voice, "If you go easy on those gits at all in the next half, I'm going to take you over my knee and spank you."

Blaise snorted at the very idea.

"Bloody hell, mate," Goyle grumbled, looking alarmed and a bit nauseas, "Leave off will you? I ate recently."

A sudden and unexpected boom of thunder overhead made them all jump and Granger nearly tore some of Draco's hair out.

"Oh, just what we bloody need," Millicent grumbled grumpily, glaring at the shed roof as though it were responsible for the weather, "I hate playing in the wet."

"Unless you're between some bird's legs, that is" Theo ribbed her and Milly smirked, "Then you're all about playing in the wet, right Milly?"

"I had your sister the other day, you know Theo," the brutish girl taunted as she picked up her broom, "Now _she_ was wet."

"WHAT?" Theo roared, spinning on the girl with his wand drawn quick as lightning.

"Don't get your bloomers in a bind, mate," Milly rolled her eyes, nonplussed by the threat, "It's hardly my fault the little banshee likes my tongue."

Blaise snorted before he began to cackle as Theo turned a horrid shade of puce for a long moment, clearly horrified by his twin sister's choice of sexual partner. Again.

"If it makes you feel better, mate," Goyle piped up, smirking wickedly over also having shagged Theo's sister.

"Don't!" Theo roared, clapping his hands over his ears, "I don't want to know. If you lot are fucking my baby sister, I don't want to hear about it. Lalalalalalalalalalala, not listening!"

He left the sheds roaring that the top of his lungs, his ears still covered.

"What a wimp," Flint smirked, "I mean, surely he knows that _everyone_ has had Rosie?"

"You too?" Goyle asked, chuckling.

"Not everyone, mate," Draco reminded him, "I'm not a slag like the rest of you."

Draco didn't know if he should be insulted or flattered when they all stopped and stared at him wide-eyed for a minute before the burst out laughing.

"Are you going to put me down now?" Granger asked as Draco strolled towards the pitch after his team.

"Blimey, Granger! Forgot you were there," Draco said, jumping a little and realising he'd completely forgotten the little witch was still perched on his shoulders. Stopping in the shed Draco propped his broom against the wall before reaching up with both arms for her hands while he squatted towards the ground.

Granger squirmed on his shoulders as she retook her feet, letting go of him as quickly as she could. She straightened her tights and fixed her jersey, looking sexy as hell with Draco's surname splashed across her chest and her back.

"You alright?" he asked her, watching her fuss as she went back for her broom and fiddled with her bat. The sound of heavy rain began to patter angrily on the old tin roof of the sheds and Draco glanced up at the sky.

"I…" Granger began, biting her lip.

"This better not be about your friends getting a bit roughed up in a game of Quidditch, Granger," Draco warned her, "Last time I played Potter the bastard broke six of my ribs, three of my toes and dislocated my shoulder so badly it's never been the same since. And in return I broke his nose, cracked his shin-bone and made him dive right into the ground, relieving him of all the skin on his palms, elbows and knees."

"Yes, but you and Harry are enemies," she pointed out, "They're my best friends and I'm playing for the enemy."

Narrowing his eyes on her and the way she spoke to her toes instead of looking at him while she fussed, Draco stepped towards her quickly. He pinched her chin as he tipped her head up and before she could resist or react, Draco slipped inside her mind. A blur of images raced through her head, a collection of memories where she'd hurt her friends in the last half, apologising as she went but still feeling bad. Her fear of flying surfaced again as well and she squealed when a sharp crack of lightning sounded overhead.

Draco was assaulted with images of Granger as a child hiding under her bed and in her closet in association with the burst of fear that swept through her just before he withdrew from her mind once more.

"Did you just…?" she began, her eyes wide and shocked.

Busted.

She narrowed her eyes on him dangerously and Draco knew she realised she'd just had him inside her mind.

"You used Legilimency on me?" she demanded, "Without permission. Without warning. You just…."

Draco winced when she slapped his right across the face.

"You just violated my mind," she snarled, her fear forgotten as fury sparked in her brown eyes, "The equivalent of mentally raping me, Malfoy. You sick, twisted jerk!"

Draco grit his teeth when she shoved past him, making sure to stomp hard on his foot as she went.

Fuck!

She was going to kill him. He'd not been caught in a long time. In fact, he'd spent so much time since he'd mastered Legilimency slipping into the minds of his friends, his family and even his enemies that it was almost second nature. He had long since stopped thinking of it as mind-rape. It was simply his go-to act when he needed or wanted to know something and knew he wouldn't get the truth by asking.

Thunder boomed overhead again, rattling the dressing shed as Draco followed the witch. She was going to throw the game now, he was sure of it. She would turn on him viciously and attack her own teammates. He would, in her place.

Casting an Impervious charm on his face and his hands, Draco stepped out into the rain and joined everyone else on the pitch. Granger's hair immediately began teasing free of her bun, the charm wearing off in the rain and her anger affecting her ability to maintain it. Long strands of chestnut slid free of the bun, the weight of the water weighing the usually springy curls down. More lightning cracked in the sky and Draco watched the witch. Her friends were watching her too and it was clear to him that her fear of storms was a known thing for them. At least it was for Potter and Weasley – both of whom frowned worriedly when she didn't even jump at the sound as lightning rent the air, followed quickly by thunder.

Madam Hooch blew the whistle to resume the game and Draco shot into the air, searching frantically for the snitch. He hated playing in the rain.

"What the fuck did you do to Hermione?" Potter screeched at him a half hour later when the slick git appeared next to him in the air above the pitch where the Chasers worked furiously, each of them trying to score, and neither team having much luck. The deluge continued to bucket down upon them heavily, slicking the quaffle and making it hard to grip.

"Nothing," Draco shrugged.

"She's not even flinching at the storm and she's tearing everyone apart. Katie was just carted off the pitch with a concussion!" Potter argued with him, "You did something to her! Is she under the Imperius curse?"

A Bludger came whizzing right at Draco and he barely dodged it, sent by the witch they were discussing.

"Would I Imperio her to attack me?" Draco demanded as the witch in question tore after the bludger, kicking his harshly on her way past and nearly sending him skidding off the end of his broom from the impact. Gasping at what he was sure was another dislocation of his bad shoulder, Draco gritted his teeth.

"She just dislocated your shoulder," Potter pointed out unhelpfully, "She's really pissed. You must've done something to her. She's not even reacting to the storm. She's afraid of them. Usually she…"

"Hides under a bed or in a cupboard when it storms?" Draco finished for him, "Yeah. I know."

"You know?" Potter asked, wrinkling his brow into a frown.

"Accidentally used Legilimency on her," Draco admitted through gritted teeth as he cracked his shoulder back into place.

"Accidentally?" Potter demanded, "How the fuck do you _accidentally_ use Legilimency on someone? It's advanced dark magic!"

"I didn't mean to, Potter, it just fucking happened!" Draco snarled in return. He opened his mouth to go on but suddenly he spotted the snitch several feet below and Draco dove for it automatically, ready for this game to be over.

Potter was seconds behind him with a shout of protest but Draco narrowed his eyes on the snitch, diving fast and hard. The whizzing of a bludger coming his way met his ears and Draco cursed when he realised it was Granger again, only this time he couldn't dodge it. The furious ball collided with his bad shoulder again just as he closed his hand around the snitch.

Torn from his broom by the wind and a poor grip in the wet weather, Draco howled out oaths as he crashed the additional fifteen feet to the ground, skidding on impact as he hit the mud-slick pitch and rolled. His shoulder was out again, possibly broken. He knew that before he even hit the ground. Keeping a tight grip on the snitch, Draco grit his teeth until he slid to a stop.

"DID YOU GET IT, MALFOY?" Lee Jordan's voice screamed over the microphone, barely audible over the storm and Draco held up his fist as far as he could without pain, the struggling gold ball trying to wriggle free of his grip.

"SLYTHERIN WINS!" Jordan announced, "AND JUST IN TIME FOR LUNCH TOO. LET'S HEAD ON IN FOLKS. I DO BELIEVE THE TIME HAS COME FOR THE LOVELY LADIES TO MEET THEIR FATE UNDER THE SORTING HAT! MALFOY, I HOPE YOU'RE DYING DOWN THERE. YOU ONLY WON BECAUSE Hermione HELPED YOU LOT!"

Draco groaned in agony as Theo and Blaise landed either side of him when he didn't get up.

"Fuck, mate," Theo told him, "Your shoulder's rooted. Weasley's bludger must've dislocated it.

Draco didn't bother correcting them that it had been Granger.

"Help me up," he demanded of his friends, gritting his teeth as Theo and Blaise lifted him to his feet. Goyle came up behind him doing most of the lifting.

"Don't," he warned when Goyle went to click his shoulder back into place for him, "It's broken this time."

Through the heavy rain, Draco watched the dark haired witch who'd done this to him stalk away, broom in one hand and bat in the other. Her long hair was completely loose of its bun now, obscuring the word 'Malfoy' where it was scrawled across her back as she left them all behind and made for the sheds.

"I got it," Theo muttered, pulling out his wand and healing the break as best he could. Pomfrey would have to take a look at it, he knew, but it would do for now. Groaning again, Draco dragged himself towards the showers in the sheds, needing to bathe the mud off himself. He was going to fucking get Granger for this!

* * *

 **A/N: How much do you love Quidditch? *winks***


	5. Chapter 5: Not On Your Life!

**A/N: Here it is, the chapter you've all been waiting for. Thanks so much for all the reads and reviews. Strap in for a 10k word chapter! Much love! xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Little Do You Know**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Not On Your Life!**

* * *

Hermione Granger cursed under her breath as she stood naked in the shower in the sheds of the Slytherin team, bathing away the chill that had seeped into her bones during the game. She'd probably broken Malfoy's shoulder, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to care. The bastard had still won the game.

More importantly, he'd used Legilimency on her. Hermione hadn't even realised he was doing so until she'd blinked at him when he looked concerned over her fear of storms. She'd not felt him inside her mind, pressing into her thoughts. Not even a little bit. The very idea unsettled her immensely. She felt utterly violated. The idea of that slick git poking about inside her head made her feel more assaulted than she would've had he groped her obscenely.

She hurried through the shower as best she could, having dashed inside the sheds as soon as Malfoy had caught the snitch. She was through with the game and if she could help it, Hermione wasn't ever going to play Quidditch again. She felt positively awful for what she'd done to her friends. It was the nature of the game and when she'd been doing it, Hermione had rationalised that were things reversed; were it Malfoy playing for the Gryffindor team, she would fault him if he didn't play fair.

So she had played fair. She'd played fair and assaulted her friends with bludgers. She hadn't meant to get so into the game. She could have feigned a lack of skill on the broom or a reluctance to hurt her friends but she'd been sucked in and completely taken over by the rush of flying so fast and the power she felt with the beater's bat in her hand. The outlet of her annoyance with her friends over their underestimation of her ability and Ron's insistence on embarrassing her by loudly proclaiming she played horribly had been nice and she'd been enjoying the game immensely.

In fact, before Malfoy's invasion and Ron's interruption, she'd even been having a good time with the Slytherins. It was slightly awkward when Flint had exposed his Dark Mark and had brought into focus that Malfoy, Theo and Goyle all had one too. She wasn't sure about Millicent and Blaise. That these people who had been getting along with her, even being pleasant to her had just this time last year been working for a man intent on murdering her had greatly unsettled her.

She didn't really know what to do with the notion. It was one thing to know vaguely who had been a Death Eater, who had sympathised with the cause and who had been Good like her. When they were just people across a room, names and faces with no personalities, she could file it away under 'Unpleasant' in her mind and that was that. It was entirely another when she spent time with them and learned they had personalities, quirks, foibles and individualism. Sure she'd known that it was the case that they _did_. She just hadn't known what they were.

Moreover, the notion that Draco Malfoy had been poking around in her head and she hadn't realised it was disturbing. Merlin only knew what he might have come across. Her fear of storms seemed evident. Her ability to fly must've been picked up sometime before half-time as he'd seemed sure she could. Hermione's eyes widened in horror when she recalled colliding with him on the train. The bastard had done it to her then too?

He must have!

How else could he have known? There could be no other explanation for his instigation of a friendly Quidditch match and then for asking her to play for Slytherin. Her. Of all people in the whole school. What a fool she must be.

Snarling under her breath at the sounds of the others approaching, Hermione waited until the sound of their showers began before she turned off the water in hers, waved her wand with a drying spell for her body and her discarded clothes since she had nothing else. Hermione donned the entire uniform once more to save on having to carry more than necessary.

"Oi Granger? You still in here?" Millicent shouted over the sound of the storm and the rowdy boys.

Hermione didn't answer as she picked up the broom Malfoy had loaned her and the beater bat she'd used during the game.

"Granger?" Theo's reedy voice came from another stall and Hermione stayed silent once more.

"Is she still in here?" Blaise wanted to know, "Granger? Speak up, love, if you're here."

Hermione didn't reply to them. Instead she left the shed. Using her wand, she transfigured the beater bat into an umbrella and Hermione hurried back to the castle. She wanted to get into the Slytherin dormitories and return Malfoy's things, collecting her own in the process, before escaping to lunch. She needed to apologise to her friends. She also needed to get a grip on herself before she started to panic as the storm raged overhead.

Most times she was fine with storms. She'd grown out of her childhood fear of them until the war. Now she felt the need to crawl under her bed, put her hands over her ears and cower until they were over. Which upset her because when she'd grown out of her fear as a child, Hermione had grown to love stormy weather. Trudging on light feet all the way up to the castle, Hermione hurried past everyone else making their way back from the pitch – those who'd stayed out to watch once the rain began.

She reached the Entrance Hall without having to speak to anyone, keeping her head down as she went. Her hair was still dripping a bit thanks to the wind and the inadequate umbrella. Hurrying through the hall and down into the dungeons, Hermione found the entrance to the Slytherin common room and gave the password. It was mercifully deserted as she ran on sure feet all the way down to the Seventh year boy's dormitory. The temperature inside the dungeons dropped dramatically and despite her recent shower, despite her haste, Hermione began to shiver with cold.

Peeling the protective greaves off her arms and legs, Hermione propped them again the wall beside Malfoy's bed. She did the same thing with the Nimbus broom and she transfigured the umbrella back into a bat. Hermione plucked at the hem of Malfoy's jersey before glancing down at it. She desperately wanted to be rid of it and anything to do with the thought-violating little ferret, but she was too bloody cold. Cursing under her breath Hermione snagged up her dress and pulled it on over the top of the jersey. Her hoddie and her overcoat followed. The jersey was lightweight and comfortable against her skin, despite its unfortunate bearing of the Malfoy name.

Taking up her book once more, Hermione ran all the way back up the steps to the Slytherin common room before anyone could even catch her in the boy's dormitory. She would just return the jersey later. She supposed it would only be polite to wash it before returning it. If she didn't murder Malfoy in the meantime. She was furious with him for what he'd done. What secrets had he garnered from her unshielded mind?

Sweet Merlin, what if he'd found out things about her that she would never share with anyone on purpose. Her darkest secrets, her wickedest fantasies, her cruellest thoughts. Hermione wasn't so foolish as to be deluded about human nature, even her own. There were a number of things she kept to herself because she didn't want to be perceived as cruel or strange or twisted.

"Oh, hello Hermione," Luna Lovegood's dreamy voice interrupted her thought process as Hermione sat down at the Gryffindor table and Hermione looked up at the blonde Ravenclaw girl.

"Hi Luna," Hermione said, smiling at the girl despite her bad mood. Luna wore a strange necklace made entirely out of stones. Hermione knew there was nothing special about the stones. They were just smooth stones from the Black Lake that she'd turned into jewellery.

"How are you?" Luna asked, "You played very well. I didn't know you knew how to play Quidditch."

"Oh, erm, thanks Luna," Hermione smiled tightly, reminded again of the game and of what Malfoy had done, "I must admit, I'm pleased to be out of the weather. Quidditch seems fun enough in good conditions but I can't get behind the idea of playing such a dangerous game during a storm."

"That makes sense," Luna nodded her head and Hermione knew the girl didn't have to mention Hermione's fear of storms to understand that Luna understood what she meant, "Have you been thinking about this Marriage Law business. Garish, isn't it?"

"It's completely barbaric," Hermione nodded her head, "I heard some girl yesterday romanticizing the notion about how the Hat will put us with people we might've never considered but will do well with. What a load of rubbish! The idea of being forced into marrying someone within the next year makes me feel like rising up against the Ministry again."

"If you do decide to, please let me know," Luna told her, "I'm always available for revolt against the Ministry. But I suppose it makes a certain sense. There are some people who get together romantically because they're friends or because they're sexually attracted to one another, but whom have very little in common. You and Ron are like that. The two of you have very little in common. You share a long and detailed history as friends, but you so often argue and fight that it's clear you're incompatible."

Hermione blinked at the other girl in surprise, shocked by her observation.

It was true that she and Ron fought a lot. They always had. Winning the war and gaining some maturity hadn't stopped Ron from being tactless and, at times, mean. She often had to scold him about things and she knew their relationship was mostly a result of everyone expecting them to get together. Not that she didn't enjoy snogging him.

"Erm," Hermione said quietly, "Thanks… I guess… what about you Luna? Do you have any projections about who you think you might end up with in this mess?"

Luna looked thoughtful for several long minutes as she nibbled the ends of her long blonde hair.

"No," she said finally and Hermione felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips.

That was Luna to a T. She wouldn't presume to suggest someone she might like to end up with. Hermione knew her reasoning was that, unlike the sorting hat, she hadn't rummaged through the heads of every boy between the age of seventeen and twenty-five.

"Do you have any predictions for me?" Hermione asked her as she reached for a mug of hot chocolate that appeared in front of her. Hermione frowned when the too-long sleeve of the Slytherin jersey she wore under her own clothing for warmth flopped down over her wrist and prevented her movement. Scowling, Hermione jerked the sleeve back up and wrapped her hands around the warm cup, grateful for its soothing warmth.

"Whoever he is," Luna said softly, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she noticed Hermione's predicament with her sleeve, "He's someone who will challenge you. You need that. You settled with Ron because it was expected. Whoever that hat puts you with will be an enigma to you. Someone you've got to unravel like a twisted up ball of yarn inside a Rubik's cube wrapped in complex word puzzles. He'll drive you mad most of the time. You need that. You need challenge. You need something you've got to work at and try hard to understand. You've always needed that."

"So you're saying I'll end up marrying an arrogant arsehole then?" Hermione asked her grimly, wishing she hadn't asked at all.

"Oh yes," Luna smiled before sipping some hot chocolate of her own, "But he won't be that way with you all the time. He'll be the perfect gentleman under all his rot. If you work hard enough to expose that side of him. I rather envy you, in fact."

"Why?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows at the girl in surprise.

"Well, if someone the hat chooses for me is supposed to be compatible with me, I imagine he'll be a deep thinker and prone to distraction. And if we're both prone to distraction, I envision a loveless marriage where we both follow our own whimsy and pursuits."

"Oh Luna, I'm sure that won't be the case. I don't think the Hat intends to choose based on their likeness to you. But on who among them would be suitable in spite of your quirks," Hermione assured her quietly, "I think that whoever the Hat chooses for you will be the roots to your wings. You, my dear friend, are whimsical, carefree and a deep thinker. Whoever the hat pairs you with will be somewhat serious, maybe a little brooding and prone to wild bouts of negativity that you will endure with your usual chirpiness."

"Do you think so?" Luna asked, "I don't know anybody like that."

"Maybe that's for the best," Hermione shrugged, "I'm sure that if the right man for you was someone you already knew, you would already be with him."

Luna smiled brightly at her summation.

"Sometimes I forget how clever you are," Luna told her, "Oh look, here come Harry and Ginny and the others."

Hermione blanched at the very idea of seeing her friends again so soon. They all traipsed in to the Great Hall still dressed in their Quidditch gear and Hermione looked over at them. They look disgruntled and a little bedraggled. It was clear they'd washed up and dried their gear after the match but that they'd gotten wet in the storm that continued to rage outside.

Lightning flashed overhead through the bewitched ceiling and Hermione shivered at the sight.

"Hermione," Oliver Wood grinned at her, "You were bloody brilliant out there!"

The older boy clapped her on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Oliver," Hermione smiled tightly, wincing as he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. It had begun to ache from her use of the bat during the game. Her body wasn't used to slugging high-speed balls at people or to gripping a bewitched branch while zooming about hundreds of feet above the ground and trying not to get killed.

"I've never seen anyone play the position of Beater like you did. Most Beaters are pretty big – usually male – and they're slower on their brooms. More vicious because they flog the bludgers harder. I had no idea you could fly like that. Or that you had such a good aim. You cracked me during the second half – look at this," Oliver went on, raving as he so often did about Quidditch.

Hermione winced when he pushed back his sopping fringe to reveal a cut in his eyebrow and a rapidly blackening eye.

"Oh no! I'm so sorry Oliver," Hermione apologised, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know," Oliver grinned, dropping his fringe again, "Which made the game all the more brutal. You flogged those bludgers left, right and centre with deadly precision and you apologised every single time you hit someone. Never seen that in a match before. Bloody good show, if you ask me."

He dropped into the seat across from her at the table and reached for some hot chocolate and something to eat as lunch began to appear. Hermione winced when Harry dropped down in the seat next to her. Ginny sat on his other side and Ron sat on the far side of Luna.

"You were amazing out there," Harry told her begrudgingly, glancing sideways at her.

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione smiled tightly again, "How are you feeling? Did you need me to heal your ribs?"

"Nah, Ginny already handled it," he told her with a shrug, "I want you to come to tryouts next week. You're on the team now."

"Harry I…" Hermione began to protest.

"Don't you dare sit there and make excuses not to play for Gryffindor after what you did to us today," Ron interrupted her, "You don't get to play like that for bloody Slytherin, reveal that you're amazing and then not play for us. You know we need better Beaters than the ones we had in sixth year."

"But…" Hermione bit her lip, "Look, I know you're all thinking it makes me some kind of traitor to have played for Slytherin today and then refuse to play for Gryffindor… But you know it's not my thing. I was terrified that whole time! My hands are cramping from holding the broom and the bat so tight. I was petrified that I would fall at any moment."

"Wait a minute," Oliver held up his hand, "You played like that whilst terrified?"

"Well, I…" Hermione blushed.

"Woman, I've not seen as effective a beater as you were today since Gerald Piccoult played for Pride of Portree in the seventies," Oliver told her, "And you did that whilst scared witless?"

"Look, I know you're all just trying to be nice to me," Hermione sighed, "You don't have to be. You know I'm not big on Quidditch. I like watching you lot play but you know the tactics and the fancy names for the moves and all that rubbish bores me to tears. And if I played on the house team, I'd sometimes have to play in weather like this. You know I can't do that."

"You did today" Ginny retorted and Hermione could tell from her tone that the redhead was put out about the way she'd played.

"Today I had a point to prove because you all laughed at me about my supposedly rubbish flying skills," Hermione retorted.

"You played like a demon!" Harry exclaimed, "For the opposition. I couldn't have done that. I couldn't have flogged Bludgers at my best mates without mercy whilst shouting apologies as I did it. You're completely unbiased in situations like that."

"Yes, but that's not what Quidditch is about," Hermione rolled her eyes, "How many times have you told me that? Quidditch is about passion and intensity. About wanting to violently maim the opposition and pulverise them into the dirt. That's what you all tell me. You know I don't care enough to want to do that. Not over a silly game."

"Please just come to tryouts. I've already put your name down as one of the players for the year," Harry informed her.

"Harry!" Hermione groaned, "I don't have time for Quidditch. If it was just the school matches that would be fine. But you lot train four or five days a week for hours. I don't have that kind of time. Not when I'm going for nine NEWTs this year. Not when I need to be studying. And that doesn't even begin to cover the extra bloody mess the Ministry intends to dump on us as assignments for the marriage law rot. You heard McGonagall tells us there were additional assignments for it. One of which is daily interaction with one's determined spouse. I don't have time for babysitting someone every day, plus classes, plus study, plus Quidditch."

"Yes you do," Harry rolled his eyes, "You'll be paired with Ron – whom you see daily anyway. And we both know you could take every NEWT for every subject – even the ones you haven't studied since third year – and would pass every single one with flying colours. You'll make one of those insane study time-table planners like you always do. Only this year you'll fit Quidditch games and training on to yours instead of just on ours."

"Harry," Hermione sighed, blushing pink at the notion of being paired with Ron, which she doubted would be the case.

"Hermione, I'm not taking no for an answer. You took me right off my broom today with a well-placed bludger. You're playing for Gryffindor and that's that. You owe me, remember!" Harry retorted, his green eyes sparkling.

Hermione's jaw dropped.

"You… you're calling in the favour I owe you with demanding I play for Gryffindor?" Hermione asked him, shocked.

"I am," he nodded.

"What about people who actually love Quidditch, Harry?" Hermione protested, "It's well and good to want a star team, but there are people in this school who actually care about Quidditch. Who dream about playing for the team."

"They've got the rest of their Hogwarts careers to play," Harry shrugged, "It's our final year. Besides, one of the beaters from my sixth year team transferred to Beauxbatons. I'm a man down and you're taking his spot."

Hermione sighed heavily, realising they weren't going to budge on the matter.

"You better not be insisting on this just to spite Malfoy and the Slytherins after I played for them today," she told him, "If you're only trying to make me do this over hurt pride that I played for them and never offered to play for you, I'm going to hit you with another bludger."

"Why haven't you ever played with us before?" Ginny asked, frowning at her, "You were happy enough to play for Malfoy."

"None of you ever asked me," Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "You were all content to tease me about my lack of flying skill and that was that. You didn't offer to teach me to fly better. You didn't ask me to play anyway, even if I might've been rubbish."

"Which begs the questions of why Malfoy did. He seemed pretty confident that you could fly. How come he knew when your own boyfriend didn't?" Ron said suspiciously, his blue eyes narrowing on her.

Hermione opened her mouth to cut him off before he could get going. She could tell he was still smarting over the idea of her sitting on Malfoy's shoulders in the dressing sheds and not insisting on being let down when he demanded it.

"Maybe I'm more attentive than you, Weaselbee," a familiar voice drawled from behind her and Hermione tensed at the sound, her whole body going stiff and her eyes narrowing.

"What the bloody hell do you want, Malfoy?" Ron demanded, "Come to rub it in that you won?"

"It was just a friendly game to fill in some time, Weasley," Malfoy's voice dripped with derision, "No need to get your knickers in a twist."

"So says the git who won by stealing our friend for his team. You'd never have won without a Gryffindor helping you," Ginny snapped icily.

"I'm not denying it. Even if that Gryffindor did break my shoulder," Malfoy retorted and Hermione felt her cheeks begin to burn when everyone except Harry looked confused.

"You broke his shoulder?" Oliver asked her.

"Who do you think flogged that bludger at me just as I caught the snitch," Malfoy replied and Hermione spun in her seat to glare at him.

"You deserved it," she spat, raking him with a glare of pure loathing.

She hated him for looking entirely too good in his gear. Especially when her mind flashed with the reminder of what he had going on underneath it. His smirk was slow as he fixed his eyes on her and Hermione expected he was going to dish out some payback for breaking his shoulder at some later date. His blonde hair hung in his eyes, the fringe having grown long over the summer so that it hung in thick, messy blonde spikes to the tip of his nose. It was still damp from the rain or from his shower. He hadn't bothered to take off his jersey, though he'd ditched the greaves from the game.

He raked her with an almost scornful glare of his own and Hermione's cheeks burned even more when he spotted the sight of the too-long sleeves of his jersey sticking out the ends on her own coat sleeves. She'd even pulled one of them down to completely cover her hand and keep it warm in lieu of gloves.

"You left this on my nightstand," he drawled in a suggestive sort of tone and Hermione blanched at the sound, glancing down at the wristwatch he thrust towards her. She'd taken it off at Goyle's insistence that it would get broken in the game and left it on Malfoy's night table.

"You…" Ron spluttered, looking between Hermione and Malfoy in horror, "You were in his dormitory?"

Before Hermione could reply, Blaise Zabini strolled over to stand next to Malfoy.

"Oi, Granger," he grinned, "If this mob of sourpusses throw you out of Gryffindor Tower for playing so stellar for our team, you're more than welcome back in our dormitory. Plenty of room in my bed, love."

Hermione closed her eyes in horror, snatching her watch out of Malfoy's hand.

"Thanks Zabini," she said through gritted teeth.

"Just looking out for you, darling," Blaise was smirking now, clearly realising that he'd gotten her in some trouble.

"I'll be sure to return the favour, Blaise," Hermione told him, plastering a polite smile on her face while glaring daggers at him.

"There's that team spirit we saw in the sheds," Blaise winked, "Any time you need to get away from these tossers, you just let us know, alright baby? You're an honorary Slytherin now."

"She's playing for the Gryffindor team this year, boys," Ginny piped up, her tone like ice.

"Oh yeah, _now_ you want her," Malfoy rolled her eyes, "Now that we Slytherins have shown you her potential. Do they always undervalue you like this, Granger?"

"Undervalue?" Ron seethed, "We don't undervalue her! We love Hermione. You lot just clear off, right? No one wants you here!"

"Is that true, Granger?" Blaise asked, "Don't you want to hang out with your teammates? I thought we were friends?"

Hermione raked the pair of Slytherins with her eyes.

"Blaise can stay, if he wants," she replied, glaring coldly at Malfoy.

Malfoy smirked widely at her comment, something wicked flashing in his grey eyes. That flash made her nervous.

"Knew you loved me," Blaise grinned, "How could you not, really? Everyone else does. Right Ginevra? I've seen you perving on me."

"I have not!" Ginny protested, though her ears turned red with embarrassment.

"What? So you break my shoulder and now you won't even apologise or spend time with the only person who believed you could fly like that?" Malfoy taunted, his eyes boring holes into hers.

Hermione shot to her feet, going toe-to-toe with the much taller boy.

"You better be bloody grateful that all I did was break your shoulder after what you did to me in the sheds," Hermione snarled at him, furiously.

"What did he do?" Ron asked sharply and Hermione narrowed her eyes on Malfoy.

His expression dared her to tell them. Dared her to blurt out that he'd been inside her head and she hadn't even realised it. Hermione realised with a jolt that he very well could be right that second. She couldn't tell when he was in her mind or not. Breaking their staring match, Hermione glanced at Blaise, who looked confused by the sudden tension at the table, the jovial expression on his face slowly slipping away.

While her head was turned Malfoy stepped even closer to her, his warm breath ghosting over the chilled shell of her ear.

"What makes you think it only happened in the sheds?" he whispered in her ear before stepping back from her and smirking cruelly. A cold finger of dread ran down her spine and Hermione shuddered as he stepped away even further before he nudged Zabini and they both strolled away from the Gryffindor table. Hermione watched them go. She could tell Blaise was demanding answers from Malfoy about her breaking his shoulder and about what he'd done to her.

"What did he do to you, Hermione?" Harry asked and Hermione realised the black-haired boy was on his feet beside her, watching her closely, "I knew you broke his shoulder. I was shouting at him about what he'd done to you to make you so angry that you weren't even afraid of the storm. Which, by the way, he knew about. How does Malfoy know you're afraid of storms? He said something about accidentally using legilimency on you."

Hermione looked up into the eyes of her best friend. She could practically feel that Ron was vibrating with rage behind her. That he was jealous and confused and paranoid. Harry, on the other hand, looked concerned. His voice was hard, but Hermione could tell he was worried for her. Stepping into him a little closer, Hermione went up on her toes to whisper in his ear.

"Legilimency. And it wasn't an accident," she whispered before dropping back to her feet.

"He…?" Harry asked, his eyes widening behind his glasses.

Hermione nodded her head and she knew that Harry could tell she didn't want the others to know. That telling Ron that Malfoy had been rummaging around in her head and viewing her innermost thoughts would be like pouring gasoline on a fire.

"Well then he deserved a broken shoulder," Harry said firmly, "No one gets to talk to you like that."

"What did he do? Ron growled, "What did he say?"

"Nothing Ron," Hermione sighed, dropping back into her chair, "He was just a bit rude to me after you left the sheds."

"You mean when you asked me to leave you there perched on his shoulders like it was nothing?" Ron spat, his blue eyes flashing, "Gee, I can't imagine Malfoy being a rude little git to you after you asked your boyfriend to leave you alone with that nest of snakes."

Hermione just nodded her head and leaned into Harry's side a bit when he sat back down beside her. Harry didn't speak while Ron continued muttering about what a git Malfoy was and about how he was going to flay the bastard. Luna reached over and took Hermione's other hand, holding it through the green fabric still clenched around the appendage.

"Your attention, everyone?" McGonagall called from the podium in the middle of the room, tinkling her spoon against her glass.

Hermione glanced in that direction, feeling a sense of dread rock through her system as she spotted the stool and the Sorting Hat sitting innocently to the left of the podium. There was also a Ministry official on hand with a quill and some ink, apparently intent on recording all the pairings. Some serious looking men were also present, whom Hermione presumed to be Aurors there to keep the peace and ensure no one tried to murder their intended spouse or dodge the law.

"As you all know, the time has now come for the Sorting Hat to examine the mind of each female in the room," Professor McGonagall informed them, "My understanding is that the hat will examine your minds and choose the male most compatible with you. As such, the hat will be announcing the name of your intended, ladies. When the name has been announced, I expect each of you to act maturely about this. Go over to your intended spouse, introduce yourselves if you do not know one another and sit together for the remainder of the sorting."

"Erm, Professor?" Luna asked suddenly, her hand shooting into the air and nearly whacking Ron. Only his quick reflexes from years spent sitting next to Hermione in class when she didn't just the same thing prevented him from being clobbered.

"Miss Lovegood?" Professor McGonagall asked, frowning at the interruption.

"I was wondering Professor, how the hat is going to determine all this. It's stored the information of each boy in the room, to be sure, but what happens if say, I were to get up and it told me I was most compatible with someone, and then say, Hermione got up and she was _more_ compatible with that person? How will it know when it hasn't had the chance to examine _all_ of us first?" Luna asked seriously.

"Such instances are rare," the Hat spoke up of its own accord the answer the question, "But should there be some reason any of you ladies might not fit well with one of the men in the room, be it for reasons of sexual preference, possible incompatibility or anything else, I will inform you that more information is needed. Anyone left at the end when everyone has been examined will be re-examined and paired accordingly."

"What about the fact that there are an uneven number of us in total?" Luna asked seriously of the hat, "At the end of all this at least one person will be left spouse-less."

"This law has been put in place with the intention of running for the next five years or until such time that the danger of Tivorllo's Clause being triggered is passed, Miss Lovegood. Whomever is left at the end of this sorting will be re-sorted next year."

"Kind of slims the pickings for that poor sod, though, doesn't it? After all, there's a bunch of us now, but next year there will only be the little snots turning seventeen," Ron piped up.

"Next year's group will expand to include anyone who has been widowed or divorced in the coming year that fall inside the age-bracket. It will also include a collections of internationally located witches and wizards currently residing outside of Britain or immigrating into Britain," McGonagall informed them, "Unless of course you all get very busy and pop out children like a dragon lays eggs. In which instant the law will be abolished once the Clause in no longer a threat to our society."

People grumbled inside the hall at that nugget of information. Hermione wondered how Luna knew there was an uneven number of people inside the hall. Did she wander about counting them all? Hermione wouldn't be surprised. She also expected that there were a number of other variables would come into play. By the end of this there would be more than one lonely person unpaired. What if there was only a homosexual male, a homosexual female and a heterosexual person from either gender left in the barrel by the end of the afternoon? Three people would be spouseless. Would asexual individuals be pardoned from participating? What if there were a number of folks left at the end of any sexual preference that could be paired but were entirely incompatible?

Her mind boggled at the notion and she found herself grateful that she wouldn't have to be the one sorting people.

"Now then, let's begin," Professor McGonagall said, "Ladies, who would like to go first?"

Everyone stared around the room at each other shiftily in the deathly silence that followed, no one willing to volunteer.

"Ah, bloody hell," Angelina Johnston grumbled, "I'll do it, you mob of cowards."

Getting to her feet the dark-skinned witch stomped, braids swinging, up to the front of the hall and picked up the sorting hat.

"Thank you, Miss Johnston," Professor McGonagall smiled at her former pupil warmly. Angelina nodded before dropping the hat onto her head.

For a few minutes the hat pondered the idea of who best to pair her with.

"GEORGE WEASLEY!" The Sorting Hat announced loudly and Hermione watched Angelina smile.

"Blimey, woman," George was grinning too, "Should've known I'd wind up stuck with the likes of you. Never could keep your eyes off me, could you?"

"Don't whinge, Weasley," Angelina rolled her eyes as she hurried over to George and embraced him. Hermione could tell both of them were relieved they'd been paired with someone they knew and liked.

A Ravenclaw witch Hermione didn't know who looked to be in her early twenties went next and was paired with a handsome wizard with a shock of ginger curls. They didn't seem to know each other well and Hermione watched them shake hands, looking awkward.

"I'm thinking we should go soon," Ginny told her leaning around Harry, "Don't want all the good blokes to be gone to someone else before we can get them, do we?"

"What are you going to do if the hat doesn't put you with Harry?" Hermione asked her seriously, looking between the couple. They suddenly looked stricken and glanced at one another.

"It will," Ginny replied tightly, "It will or I'll set it on fire."

"Very brave of you Miss Lovegood," Professor McGonagall's voice suddenly cut through the room, silencing them and Hermione spun in her seat to watch Luna flounce up to the Sorting Hat and plop it onto her head. She had her wand balanced behind her right ear and her lake-stone-necklace bouncing against her chest. Dressed in striped neon purple and blue tights, a bright yellow overcoat and a tutu-style dress in a shade of neon green it was almost painful to look at her.

Hermione knew she wasn't the only one holding her breath as she waited for the girl to be sorted. Someone giggled when Luna began to swing her legs on the stool as the hat took an inordinate amount of time to decide who to pair her with. Luna blinked owlishly as she waited, swaying slightly in her chair before Hermione realised the girl had begun to hum a Christmas carol softly to herself.

"She's humming Christmas carols," Neville muttered to them, smiling fondly, "She's bloody loony, but I love her."

"You want her paired with you Neville?" Ron asked, nudging their friend suggestively.

"I wouldn't object," Neville shrugged, "But I doubt she will be."

"THEODORE NOTT!" the hat announced suddenly, scaring Hermione.

"Oh bloody hell," Theo could be heard muttering from the Slytherin table before Blaise began hooting and hollering with amusement.

"Whom?" Luna's dreamy voice asked of the hat, as she took it off and peered at it strangely. She was still swinging her legs and swaying slightly though she had stopped humming to herself.

"Over here, love!" Blaise shouted, leaping to his feet and pointing indicatively at Theo.

Theo's cheeks turned pink as Luna eyed him for a long moment with absolutely no expression on her face. Hermione watched the way the olive-skinned boy flinched slightly when Luna suddenly smiled so brightly it did hurt to look at her before she placed the hat back on the stool and skipped over to the Slytherin table. Yes, skipped.

Hermione began to giggle just a little bit at the notion as Theo looked completely confused by the choice of the girl being compatible to him. They didn't appear like they would be. Luna was all whimsy and uncanny insight. From what Hermione had gathered of Theo, he was much more straight-laced. Broody and perhaps a little bookish, if she recalled correctly. In fact, he was a lot like Hermione if she was thinking of his traits correctly. She'd seen him in the library many times while she'd been studying. Luna shoved Draco Malfoy to one side so she could squeeze between him and Theo before she plonked herself down next to Theo and shook his hand brightly as she introduced herself.

"Have you ever seen a bloke look more worried about his wellbeing in the face of such a pretty girl?" Ron sniggered unkindly, looking on at the scene with morbid curiosity.

"Right, I'm going next," Daphne Greengrass suddenly stood up, looking amused by Luna's antics. She wore heels and looked immaculate as she headed for the Sorting Hat, cutting off a Hufflepuff girl who'd been heading for it too.

Daphne sat primly on the stool and grimaced as she put the Sorting hat on her perfectly quaffed hair.

"NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM!" The Hat announced.

"Are you sure?" Daphne asked the hat, a small wrinkle forming between her eyes as she peered up at the hat on her head. She gave no other indication of her feelings on the matter while Neville squeaked unintelligibly in shock at the sound of his name.

"Quite sure," the hat retorted and Hermione would swear the thing was grinning. If she didn't know better she might've accused that blasted hat of enjoying itself as it went about uprooting people's lives and planting in the pots of others at will.

"Erm…" Neville stuttered in surprise watching the blonde haired Slytherin coming towards him when Daphne made no further protests and calmly accepted her fate. Hermione was surprised. Daphne seemed like the dramatic type to throw a tantrum and cause a scene.

"Really Daph? Longbottom?" Pansy Parkinson taunted from the Slytherin table.

"Why don't you go next, Pansy?" Daphne replied cattily to her friend, "We'll see how much you're laughing then. Ten sickles says you get Weasley."

"She better bloody not get Weasley," Ron piped up, "Hermione, you go next. Don't let these vicious cows have me."

"Oh don't be ridiculous Weasley," Daphne scolded him as she came up next to Neville and proceeded to plop herself down right on Neville's lap while the boy blushed crimson, "Everyone knows you and Granger aren't going to be paired."

"Excuse me?" Ron demanded of the girl, looking outraged as she calmly informed him of that idea. Ron clearly hadn't even considered it could be a possibility. She realised suddenly that he believed they would simply be paired together, as they so often had been. Hermione gulped over the very idea of how upset he was going to be, not at all wanting to get to her feet and be the one to break his heart over the notion of her not 'picking' him. And she knew that's how he would see it. If the hat gave her to someone else Ron would accuse Hermione of picking whomever the man was over him.

"RONALD WEASLEY!" the hat suddenly announced and Hermione's head snapped towards the front of the room in utter shock. Hannah Abbott was sitting under the hat looking utterly confused and more than a little terrified.

"Oh no!" the girl cried, snatching the hat off her head, her hands shaking and her cheeks pink, "Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry. Pleased don't hex me!"

Hermione blinked in surprised, a slight frown of confusion marring her brow.

"Her?" Ron asked, looking thunderstruck, "The bloody hat put me with her?"

"Hannah's lovely, Ron," Hermione slapped him arm, "Stop being such a git. She's already upset, don't make it worse!"

Hannah was cringing as she stumbled down the steps from the stool. She looked terrified and her eyes were fixed on Hermione, not even looking at Ron even though he was technically now her fiancé.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Harry asked her seriously from behind in a mutter, his hand resting on her sore shoulder comfortingly.

"She's upset?" Ron repeated stupidly, belligerently continuing to argue with Hermione rather than being polite to his new fiancé, "Woman you're supposed to be upset! _I'm_ supposed to marry _you_!"

Hermione levelled him a glare.

"Well you won't be Ronald. You'll be marrying Hannah. Now wipe that ridiculous look off your face, pull yourself together and be polite to your fiancé this instant!" Hermione snapped at him. She felt her heart clench inside her chest as Hannah came closer, intent on stealing Ron away from her. Hermione didn't know what to make of it all. She'd known she and Ron weren't that compatible, but Hannah Abbott?

Hermione wondered if she was perhaps in shock given that she didn't feel overly heartbroken. Sure she was sad she wouldn't be with Ron anymore, but Hermione couldn't honestly say she'd ever expected to marry him. She'd never daydreamed about it, in any case.

"You're breaking up with me?" Ron asked, looking shocked.

"What choice do I have?" Hermione hissed at him, "Now stop making such a bloody scene."

"You owe me ten sickles, Daph!" Pansy shouted from the Slytherin table and Daphne flipped her friend the bird, still perched on Neville's lap as though she belonged there.

"I'm not paying you. You didn't even get up to let yourself be sorted. You'd have been paired with this crass fool if you had, I'm sure of it," Daphne told her primly.

Hannah had begun to cry as she slid into the seat on the far side of Ron, clearly too terrified of Hermione's reaction to sit between the now broken-up couple.

"Oh, you're such a wheedler," Pansy accused her friend, "I'll go next then if you're going to get your knickers in a twist."

"Are Slytherin women often this flip?" Oliver wanted to know, looking slightly alarmed by the antics of the two girls.

"I think it's a Slytherin thing in general," Hermione told him, "You should've heard the way they talked to each other, needling Nott about shagging his twin sister."

"They did what?" Harry gasped in surprise, well aware of the awkwardness that ensued when shagging your mate's sister.

"Nott has a sister?" Ginny asked at the same time.

"OLIVER WOOD!" The hat shouted and Hermione glanced towards the Hat seeing Pansy sitting there as though she were in shock.

"A Gryffindor?" Pansy demanded of the hat, "You're pairing me with a Gryffindor? If you weren't a hat I'd think you'd lost your mind! Why are we listening to you anyway?"

"Miss Parkinson," McGonagall warned sternly.

"Wood… isn't Wood that nutty Quidditch player?" Pansy went on, still talking to the hat and ignoring the headmistress, "You think I belong with a Quidditch playing Gryffindor? Whose idea was it that we employ a bewitched hat to tell us whom to marry?"

"Well," Oliver sighed, "Doesn't she just seem delightful?"

"Actually," Hermione said, "For Pansy Parkinson, I think that might be considered a mild reaction to such news."

"Oh, bloody hell," Oliver sighed, covering his face with his hands.

"Pansy, knock it off, you're embarrassing yourself," Daphne informed her friend waspishly, "You're arguing with a hat."

Pansy blushed at the idea, put the hat down without another word and made her way to the Gryffdinor table. She stopped next to Oliver, clearly knowing whom he was.

"I'm Pansy," she sighed, offering her hand to him for him to shake,

"Oliver," Wood told her and Hermione hid a smirk when Pansy plopped herself into his lap just as Daphne had done to Neville.

"Granger, you should go next," Pansy told her, "I've got money riding on who you get paired with. You too Weaselette."

"Just how much of a gambler are you, witch?" Oliver demanded, looking slightly mollified over having to marry a Slytherin when she happened to be the pretty, if slight pug-nose witch on his lap.

Cho Chang was paired with Cormac McClaggen before Pansy answered.

"I wager on everything," Pansy informed him, "It makes life more interesting. BLAISE! You owe me five Galleons!"

"I hate you!" Blaise shouted back cheerfully from across the hall and Hermione realised with a jolt that while the Gryffindors had all gone back to the common room and considered revolt after the news of the Marriage Law, the Slytherin students had found a way to profit from it.

"So far I've made almost thirty Galleons on this mess," Pansy informed her fiancé and Oliver looked both alarmed and amused.

"Who did you bet on me being with?" Ginny wanted to know, "Harry?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Pansy rolled her eyes, "You cost me five sickles to Draco when you didn't run off and elope with Potter after this mess was announced. You'd have been exempt from participating if you had."

"Why didn't I think of that?" Ginny cried, looking stricken as the idea was put forward.

"I hate losing to Draco too, he always gets smug about it. So you owe me, witch. Get up there and prove me right that you and Potter will be separated or you'll be owing me fifteen sickles for failing me," Pansy demanded bossily.

"You do need to get up there and hear your fate, Ginny," Harry muttered when Ginny shook her head. Several more people moved forwards to be sorted as they spoke and Hermione watched as Katie made her way forwards.

"MARCUS FLINT!" the hat announced after a couple of minutes.

"WHAT?" Katie shrieked, her eyes flying wide in abject horror, "NO! There's been a mistake. You'd confused him with someone else. Merlin, _anyone_ else, please?"

"My decision is final, Miss Bell," the hat informed her sternly, "You are compatible with Marcus Flint."

"NOOOOOO!" Katie wailed, tearing the hat off her head before she ran across the hall, her face covered by her hands as she cried in horror before throwing herself into Angelina's embrace and crying out her heartache.

"Oi, Bell!" Flint called from across the hall, "Quit being dramatic and get over here!"

Katie flipped him off without lifting her face from Angelina's shoulder as she sobbed loudly.

Lavender Brown scurried forward uncertainly and put the hat on her head as the drama unfolded and Hermione watched her close her eyes as she focused on the hat's perusal of her mind.

"GREGORY GOYLE!" the hat cried out and Lavender broke down.

More tears ensued as Lavender put her hands over her face and cried without taking the hat off her head.

"Lavender and Goyle?" Harry asked, seeming horrified.

"He's not as thick as he used to be, you know," Hermione said quietly, "And he's slimmed down a bit since the war. She's being dramatic again."

On and on it went. Susan Bones was paired with Zacharias Smith. Rosanna Nott was paired with Seamus Finnigan. Parvati Patil was paired with Michael Corner and Padma was paired with Dean Thomas.

Hermione was still watching as Tracy Davis, a strange girl from Slytherin moved forwards and put the hat upon her head.

"HARRY POTTER!" the hat exclaimed after less than a minute.

"WHAT?" Ginny Weasley screeched and Hermione's eyes widened in shock as Ginny leapt to her feet and shot a Bat-Bogey hex at Tracy immediately.

Harry's eyes were wide behind his glasses in utter shock and Hermione knew he'd been expecting to end up with Ginny.

"I'll kill you, you little Slytherin whore!" Ginny was screaming, firing hex after hex at Tracy whilst attempting to set the Sorting Hat on fire.

"MISS WEASLEY, ENOUGH!" McGonagall shouted, getting involved before the Aurors both had to be called to subdue Ginny. None of her friends or her brothers attempted to subdue her, though George, Ron, Percy and Charlie were all present in the hall as they were all unwed and within the age bracket.

None of them lifted a finger to prevent the tirade of their youngest sibling. Hermione didn't bother either. Harry had taken her hand on the table and was squeezing it tightly as he began to panic with shock at being paired with someone he didn't even know. Hermione knew he loved Ginny dearly and that he didn't want to let her go. Hermione held his hand just as tightly.

"Leave off would you, Weasley?" Tracy snapped, having deflected each of Ginny's hexes, "Do you imagine this is what I want? Contrary to popular belief, not everyone wants to marry the Boy Wonder."

Ginny screamed unintelligibly at her from the hold of both Aurors. They were struggling to hang onto the flailing girl as Tracy approached Harry at the table. Hermione looked on in surprise and concern as Ginny escaped the Aurors for a moment and lunged at Tracy, punching the other girl right in the nose. Blood went everywhere at the sickening crunch and Tracy howled in pain before Ginny was subdued once more.

She was also frog-marched up to the Sorting Hat and forcibly restrained as the hat was placed upon her head, forcing her to be sorted.

"Want to tell me why you didn't react like that to the notion of Hannah getting me?" Ron asked, ignoring his quietly crying fiancé to glare at Hermione.

"What do you want from me Ron?" Hermione demanded in a hiss, "Hysteria? Violence? I'm not that person and you know it. You and I are clearly incompatible and that's all there is to it. Now shut up so I can listen to Ginny's pairing.

Ginny was swearing and cursing so foully and at such volume, held in place by two Aurors that the Sorting Hat had to boom out the name of her new fiancé.

"BLAISE ZABINI!" the Hat roared and all the Weasley boys in the hall leapt to their feet, immediately shouting their horror.

"Hell, yeah!" Blaise could be heard over at the Slytherin table, "I've always wanted to shag a redhead!"

Chaos ensued at his comment.

All the Weasley boys turned their wands on him and the Aurors were forced to release Ginny, who was still cursing foully. She didn't seem to react at all to the news of being with Blaise. She was too busy ranting about Tracy and Harry. As soon as she was free Ginny leapt up from the stool, the Sorting hat still upon her head as she charged towards Harry and Tracy once more, murder glittering in her eyes.

Tracy was still being seen to by the matron, and Harry was still holding Hermione's hand.

Hermione jumped when Ginny reached them. The redhead tore the hat off her own head and plonked it down on Hermione's before turning on Harry and Tracy once more. Sighing and needing to get out of the way of the chaos as the Aurors tried to subdue the furious Weasleys, Hermione got up, the hat still on her head and moved away from the fighting.

 _Well now, what have we here? Miss Hermione Jean Granger. Ah yes, your mind is the most intriguing I've examined in a long while Miss Granger,_ The hat whispered into her head, seeming to drown out the chaos all around her, _You are destined for great things, Miss Granger. Great things. You've a cunning you rarely put into use and a spectacular intellect. What were you doing with that Weasley boy? He was beneath you, you know? You'd have stagnated in that venture._

Hermione bit her lip on the hat's summation as everything in her mind flitted behind her eyes, being examined carefully.

 _Tell me, Miss Granger, about Draco Malfoy._

 _What?_ Hermione thought in horror.

 _Draco Malfoy. The things I am seeing in your mind suggest your compatibility with one such as him. Your friend Miss Lovegood was quite right. You need to be challenged in all things. Especially in your romantic life. He'll challenge you._

Hermione Granger snatched the hat off her head before it could spit out such an answer, staring at it horror.


	6. Chapter 6: That's My Cue

**A/N: CHERUBS! Thanks so much for all the love and reviews you've been throwing me way. You're all such darlings. How are you liking things so far? How much detail do you want to see in the lead up to the weddings? Lots of Draco/Hermione drama? Or would you prefer to see some more of the other couples drama too? Let me know, mkay? Much love! xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Little Do You Know**

 _By Kittneshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 6: That's My Cue**

* * *

Draco Malfoy looked on at the proceedings carefully, his eyes fixed on Hermione Granger across the hall just in time to see her snatch the hat off her head and look horrified.

"Listen here you manky, moldy, ridiculous excuse for headwear," her voice suddenly snarled in fury in the hall. The Aurors had just stunned all of the Weasley's and so silence had fallen once more.

"If you think for even a second," she went on furiously, "About spitting out _that_ name I swear to fucking Merlin I will destroy you!"

Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise at her language and at the way she ignited a wandless fireball inside her hand, holding the hat over it threateningly.

"MISS GRANGER!" Professor McGonagall was shouting, "What do you think you're doing? Desist that this instant! Really, I expected better of you!"

"No, enough!" Granger snapped, "I will _not_ marry that fucking git! This entire law is an utter sham and I won't stand for it. I'd rather live as a bloody muggle than marry _him_."

"You would prefer to be incompatible with someone else?" the Hat demanded.

"YES!" Granger screeched, "I'd rather be with _anyone_ else. I'd rather be alone! I'd prefer to marry another girl or even to give up my magic and live as a bloody muggle!"

"Excuse me, lads," Draco whispered to his friends, "But I do believe that is my cue."

Draco got sneakily to his feet and strolled towards the end of the table, rounding the long house tables and heading slowly in Granger's direction. She'd begun backing away from McGonagall and the Aurors towards the doors to the Great Hall as though she meant to make a run for it.

"Whom, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked, looking concerned as she approached the skittish girl.

"DRACO MALFOY!" the Sorting Hat announced.

Draco projected a shield charm that ran over his body and his clothes like a second skin, anticipating her fury as he stalked up behind her.

"Incendio," Granger snarled, the flames in her hand leaping high and almost burning the Sorting Hat before McGonagall summoned it from Granger grip.

"I won't do it," Granger hissed at her teachers and the Aurors, her wand drawn and pointed at them defensively, "I'll live as a muggle before I do that."

She spun, intent on making a dash for the exit Draco assumed, but he was ready for her.

"Stupefy," he murmured, lifting his wand tip to her temple just as she laid eyes on him.

Before she could slump to the ground, Draco caught the petite witch and slung her unconscious form over his uninjured shoulder.

"Mr Malfoy?" McGonagall asked, looking shocked at his actions.

"It's for the best, Professor. I think we all know the rest of you might've had some trouble subduing her," Draco informed them, toting the unconscious girl easily enough.

"You!" Weasley shouted, having been roused again while Granger was still shouting at the hat, "It paired her with _you_?"

Draco turned scornful eyes on the ginger haired man.

"I told you she was mine today, didn't I Weaselbee?" Draco sneered at him before strolling back towards the Slytherin table with his mudblood fiancé slung over his shoulder.

"Malfoy?" Potter's voice came from behind him when he was almost back to his seat. The rest of the hall was stunned into silence by this turn of events.

"Potter?" he asked without looking over at the Gryffindor git.

"You realise she's going to kill you, right?" Potter said evenly.

"I'm prepared for that, yes," Draco nodded his head, shooting a smirk across the hall at the spectacled man.

He retook his seat between Blaise and Luna with the girl slumped over his should before slipping her down his chest until she was sat across his lap, her cheek tucked against his shoulder as though she belonged there. Across the hall Weasley was shouting at McGonagall about the hat having to re-sort Granger. Potter was glaring at him hatefully. And everyone else was staring at him as though he'd grown a second head. Draco knew his friends were expecting a tantrum from him about this turn of events.

They expected him to be horrified over the notion of being legally obligated to marry a mudblood. Draco didn't blame them. His father was going to be furious when he found out. But Draco couldn't bring himself to care. He knew he and Granger could be great together. He'd been inside her head, he knew what made the little witch tick. Besides, she would be a delight to rile up on a daily basis and if there was one thing Draco Malfoy lived for it was riling up others.

"You and her?" Flint asked from across the table. Katie Bell had been forcibly carried over and deposited next to him at the table and she was still sobbing into her arms, her head laid against them where they rested upon the table. Draco suspected Marcus was taking perverse joy from her reaction to the notion of marrying him.

"Of course Hermione and Draco," Lovegood piped up in her vague voice, "I told her she needed an arrogant arsehole to challenge her."

If she was aware she'd just insulted him – which she didn't seem to be – she didn't show it. Draco watched as the blonde witch reached across him and smoothed Granger's curls out of her face. They'd begun to dry after being out in the rain, still hanging loose about her shoulders in long damp ringlets.

"She is going to try to kill you," Lovegood warned him and Draco nodded, knowing it was true.

His mudblood was going to be furious when she came-to and found herself snugly tucked up on his lap in front of everyone.

"THEO!" Pansy shouted across the hall, "You owe me twenty Galleons!"

Theo grumbled under his breath.

"Draco, if you cost me anymore fucking money, I'm going to skin you," Theo informed him crossly.

"Stop betting on things pertaining to me then," Draco shrugged nonchalantly, "You suck at it."

"You're going to marry her? _Her?_ " Goyle asked him, eyeing the prone mudblood on his lap. Lavender Brown had also been led over to the Slytherin table, still sobbing about having to marry Goyle, and she was currently sprawled across the table next to Katie Bell, both of them sat beside one another as they cried.

"Yep," Draco nodded before he smirked at his friend.

"Is anyone else unnerved by the amount of Gryffindors we seem to be paired with?" Blaise piped up suddenly as the Sorting Hat was returned to the stool and Ginny Weasley was led towards them by the Aurors, still furious and still swearing.

"Conspiracy, you reckon?" Flint asked before smoothing his hand over Bell's hair and down her back in a mockery of a comforting gesture. The witch cried harder as she cringed away from the touch, flattening against the table as she tried to evade him.

"Got to be," Blaise nodded, "That hat's always been about inter-house unity. No way are all these witches supposedly _compatible_ with people from such different backgrounds upbringings. People from different sides in the war. I mean, come on, Pansy and Oliver Wood? She's a prima ballerina and he's a Quidditch nut. Daph and Longbottom?"

He paused in his chatter when the Aurors dragged the Weaselette over to their table, seeming to realise she wasn't going to stay without being restrained.

"Hello, love," Blaise purred at the spitfire, snagging up her hands and toppling her into his lap before he wrapped his arms tightly around her lithe frame and clamped down to hold her in place. The witch was still too busy swearing foully for Draco to determine if she was protesting the hold, though she struggled feebly. He expected she'd been forcibly given a Calming Draught, because slowly her wriggling decreased, though she continued to curse under her breath.

"It's not a conspiracy," Lovegood piped up as the Sorting continued pairing unlikely people together in the oddest ways, "If you think about it, it actually makes sense. Take Katie and Marcus, for example, both of you suffered a traumatic experience in your final year of schooling that damaged your health. Marcus you were pushed into that cabinet by the Weasley twins, and Katie was victim of Draco's task when she touched that cursed necklace. Your education was thoroughly disrupted by a stint in St. Mungo's."

Draco watched all of his friends blink at the blonde witch in surprise.

"And her?" Goyle asked, jerking his thumb at a terribly sobbing Lavender Brown.

"Lavender's always been attracted to strong men, Gregory," Lovegood informed him, startling everyone with her use of Goyle's rarely used first name, "She's also a fantastic cook."

Goyle brightened somewhat at Lovegood's reply.

"As for Daphne and Neville, that's easily enough explained. She is much more than you give her credit for. She's brainy and clever in addition to being beautiful and perfectly manicured at all times. She needs someone down to earth who can tolerate her uppity ways and won't begrudge her career ambition. Neville, on the other hand is still a bit shy at times, though he's grown immensely since the war. He needs someone perky and fun to bring him out of his shell so he can reach his full potential. Someone who will tolerate his obsession with plants."

"But Daphne hates plants," Theo frowned.

"Daphne hates dirt," Lovegood corrected, looking speculative, "But she'll tolerate it for him when she sees how he lights up when he talks about his plants."

"And you? You think you and I are compatible?" Theo asked her, looking doubtful.

Draco watched the man flinch when Lovegood turned to him with a big smile on her face as though he'd said something to make her happy.

"You're my anchor, Theodore" she informed him as though that explained everything.

Theo stared at her, clearly waiting for her to expand on her proclamation. Draco saw Theo's left eye twitch when she didn't say anything else before she pulled a copy of the Quibbler out of her pocket and began reading it, upside-down.

"She's crazy if she thinks me and this one will be compatible," Blaise muttered as Ginny Weasley slowly curled in on herself whilst still in his lap. All the fight went out of her.

"Not just any woman will tolerate your bullshit, mate," Draco told him, smirking, "That one won't back down when you bluster about something. She'll pull you into line when you stick your big mug where it shouldn't be too."

"What about Pans? No way she belongs with a Quidditch nut like Wood," Marcus mused.

"He's a famous Quidditch player," Draco rolled his eyes, "This is Pansy we're talking about."

Everyone laughed at that, realising he was right. Wood might be a Gryffindor git, but he was still famous. If there was ever a man Pansy went for it was someone with a well-known name or reputation, all the better if he played Quidditch. It was why she'd chased Draco so long. He was from a prominent family and he adored Quidditch.

"You're not curious at all about why you're paired with her?" Goyle asked, nodding at the slowly rousing muggle-born witch on Draco's lap.

Draco shook his head, renewing his shield charm when Granger gasped in his hold and went tense.

"I already know," Draco told him with a shrug, "You with us, Granger?"

"Let me go," she growled through gritted teeth, her wand suddenly aimed at Draco's throat.

"Not going to happen," he told her, glancing down at the witch as she tensed even more, "Stop making a scene, would you?"

"Stupefy!" she hissed and Draco felt the spell against his skin, bouncing off the shield and flying over Bell's lowered head. Red sparks showered everything before colliding with someone else's back. People gasped when the poor bloke slumped forwards, unconscious.

Granger gasped when she realised what she'd done while Draco caught her wrist and tucked her wand further into his chest where the Aurors couldn't see it as they leapt up to investigate where the spell had come from.

"Try it all you want, Granger," Draco purred into her ear, "You're not going to stun me or kill me or anything else. Just sit there like a good little Gryffindor until this is all over and then you can go. Now smile sweetly before the Aurors confiscate your wand for Stunning that poor fool over there."

Draco could hear her teeth beginning to grind. And having been in her mind he understood that her teeth were very important to her and that she wouldn't seek to damage them such without being utterly furious. He tucked her head beneath his chin then. His arms held her loosely on his lap and Draco couldn't resist the urge to smooth one hand over her thigh cheekily. He smirked when she turned her face into his neck, wondering if she was blushing before he hissed between his teeth when the little bitch bit his neck harshly.

"Ouch!" he growled through gritted teeth, clamping his hand down on her thigh until she whimpered at the pain it caused.

"I _hate_ you," she snarled at him though she was clearly trying not to make too much of a scene because she did it quietly.

"Feeling's mutual, witch," Draco retorted as he watched the rest of the sorting take place. Several more instances of hysteria broke out after Weasley and Granger's performances and one bloke had to be detained when he jumped up and made a run for it upon learning whom he had been paired with.

Granger seethed on his lap for a little while before she twisted slightly, untucking her head from beneath his chin and scanning the hall for her friends. Sensing her growing concern when she couldn't spot the Weaselette, Draco watched her twist her head around and around, craning her neck to look past people.

"She's right behind you," Draco told her quietly, twisting the witch on his lap until she could spot the subdued redhead reclining on Blaise's lap. She was no longer struggling or even cursing anymore. She simply sat there with tears running down her cheeks unchecked.

"Oh, Ginny," Granger sighed sympathetically, turning further on his lap. Draco tightened his grip on her when she tried to climb off him, refusing to let her. He rather liked the feeling of having her in his lap. In fact, he rather liked touching her. His father would have a fit if he could see Draco willingly touching a mudblood without cringing, but he didn't care. She was warm. And she smelled good. Like chocolate and cinnamon. Resisting the urge to bury his nose in her curls was proving a challenge, actually.

When she resigned herself to not being released just yet, she turned far enough that she could intertwine her fingers with her best friend's, clutching her hand tightly. Weaselette's only sign of life came when she suddenly gripped Granger's hand so tightly that her knuckles went white. Reaching over to Lovegood on the other side, Granger took her hand too. Draco watched as Ginny and Luna each reached for the still-crying girls across the table from them.

Marcus was still stroking his hand over Katie's hair and down her back, looking amused by the way she flinched and cringed away from him every time. Goyle was pretending Lavender didn't exist. He'd barely acknowledged her at all, though as Draco watch Weaselette take Brown's hand Draco caught Goyle's gaze narrowing slightly. Lovegood took Bell's hand as well, squeezing reassuringly and all five girls sat in silence, their tears slowly drying with the show of solidarity.

Draco rolled his eyes at their antics. Gryffindors were so touchy. Lovegood seemed to have accepted her fate with Theo, though Draco suspected she was an oddball. He'd heard as much in the past. He'd spoken to her a few times when she'd been a prisoner in the Manor during the war, but only sparingly. She was intelligent and insightful, from what he'd gathered. She also was level-headed enough not to bawl her eyes out.

Granger's eyes also remained dry and Draco suspected her unshakable logic in the face of emotion was to blame. She'd had her tantrum about this and now she would move on. She wouldn't accept it, Draco could tell. She was going to bury herself in her books and search for a way out of this. Draco knew she would. She wouldn't be successful, but if it distracted her from trying to kill him and throwing things at his head, he wasn't about to suggest she was wasting her time.

He also decided to keep it to himself that even if, by some miracle, she did find a loophole and a way to get them all out of this, he wasn't going to let her go. Hermione Granger didn't know it yet, but she was his for life.


	7. Chapter 7: The Rules

**A/N: Hey everyone. Sorry for the delay in updating. RL got a bit crazy and I didn't have time. I hope you're loving the story. Thanks for all the lovely reviews you've been giving me. Muc love! xx- Kitten.**

* * *

 **Little Do You Know**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 7: The Rules**

* * *

Hermione grit her teeth and turned her attention to ensuring her friends were ok when she realised what had become her fate. She was sitting on Draco Malfoy's lap in the middle of the Great Hall and he had no intention of letting her go. She could tell from the way his hands kept tensing around her. He meant to keep her right where she was, embarrassing her by forcing her to sit on his lap in front of everyone. It became clear to her that he must've carried her. She recalled him stunning her when she'd been about to make a run for it.

It stood to reason that he'd picked her up and carried her over to the Slytherin table. Hermione frowned, recalling suddenly that he'd been behind her before the hat had even paired them together aloud. Meaning he'd been expecting to be paired with her. Had he asked the hat to put them together? No, that would be ludicrous. He was Draco Malfoy. He loathed mudbloods like her. Even if he had been surprisingly decent to her all day with the match and lending her some gear so she could play. Of course he'd also mentally raped her, invading her mind and perusing it at his leisure with apparent ease.

Hermione squirmed on his lap as she held Ginny's hand while the girl cried. She suspected - given Ginny's placid behaviour - that the redhead had been given a Calming Draught. Nothing else would keep her away from Harry and there was no way the fiery girl would ever sit on Blaise Zabini's lap so calmly.

Soon, the last of the people in the room were slowly sorted out, boiling down to same-sex pairings and a few people who were indeed left spouseless for the time being until next year's mess unless everyone pumped out kids in the next year. Hermione sighed in annoyance when McGonagall stood up at the podium once more and called for their attention, demanding that everyone forget their hysteria for the time being while she pointed out the rules of this ridiculous law.

Sets of tea appeared on the table before them all suddenly, clearly the house elves felt they needed a nice cup of tea to brace for the upcoming information they would be receiving. Squeezing Ginny's hand again, Hermione released both her and Luna to fix them all a cup of tea. She poured the tea quickly into the supplied cups, handing Ginny hers before fixing Luna's too.

"Katie?" Hermione asked the still-crying girl.

Katie lifted her head slowly to blink at Hermione through puffy eyes.

"Tea?" Hermione offered her softly.

Kaite nodded shakily, "White with one," she croaked, flinching from Marcus's hand brushing over her dark hair again. Hermione eyed the other boy for a moment and she noticed as she fixed Katie's tea that though he smirked a little as though he was enjoying the way she flinched, the way he watched her so closely made Hermione think that he could grow to enjoy being with Katie. That or he just enjoyed petting distraught women.

When Katie's tea was made, Hermione made Lavender a cup as well, knowing from years of sharing a table and a dormitory how the girl liked her tea.

"Lavender, have a cup of tea," Hermione told the girl reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Tea?" Lavender asked in confusion, lifting her head. She looked terrible. Her mascara had run from her eyes and down her cheeks. Her eyes were puffy and her lip was bloodied as though she'd bitten it to contain her sobs of despair.

"Oh Lavender," Hermione sighed, fishing a clean handkerchief out of her pocket and squirming some more on Malfoy's lap until she could reach the other girl across the table. Cupping Lavender's cheek, Hermione wiped at her mascara stained cheeks and cleaned her up as best she could, giving the girl the handkerchief.

When she was finished, Hermione pushed the full cup towards the girl, who took it gratefully and drank deeply. Doing the same, Hermione ignored Malfoy completely while she had her cup of tea, feeling warmer and slightly better for it.

"Going to make me a cup too, Granger?" Flint asked her, leering a little.

Hermione eyed him for a long moment. She didn't want to. He was friends with Malfoy, so she didn't want to be nice or even polite to him. But she'd played a nice game of Quidditch with him just that morning and it would do no good to go about upsetting the people who had recently been decent to her when they didn't have to.

"How do you take your tea Marcus?" Hermione asked primly instead.

"Black with two, thank you," he replied just as politely, grinning a little. Hermione could tell from Katie's expression that she was horrified by the sound of him saying anything that wasn't snarled expletives on a Quidditch pitch and she realised she'd probably not been inclined to speak with him any other time. He'd been in the same year as Oliver, so they hadn't shared any classes. Most likely it was a surprise to Katie that he could form articulate and polite-sounding sentences at all.

Hermione poured his tea and added the sugar accordingly before handing it to him.

"Goyle?" Hermione asked, pleased to see the pot was refilling itself and steeping nicely as she continued.

"White with three, thanks Granger," Goyle replied with a polite smile and Hermione could tell Lavender was shocked at his ability to speak rather than just grunt.

"Hit me with a white, no sugar, would you Granger?" Millicent piped up from where she was sitting next to the Hufflepuff girl from a few days ago – Stacey Wiggins – whom she'd obviously been paired with. They looked an odd pair given that Stacey was barely five foot tall and a tiny little thing while Millicent was easily six foot and built more like a troll. Not disproportionately so, but nonetheless strapping.

She could tell from Millicent's tone that the Slytherin girl had clearly decided after their earlier game of Quidditch that she liked Hermione well enough to be decent to her. Dare she say that if they all went through with this law, Hermione might end up being friends with Millicent Bulstrode?

Doing as she was bid, Hermione fixed the girl her tea.

"Stacey, would you like a cup?" Hermione offered to the terrified looking Hufflepuff.

"Oh… um… just black tea with lemon, if there is some, please," Stacey said, her cheeks turning pink at being addressed and seeming startled that Hermione knew her name. Hermione smiled at her gently in understanding. It couldn't be easy, she imagined, to have been outed regarding sexual preference as a result of this marriage law. To then be paired with someone boisterous and rowdy like Millicent couldn't have been easy to swallow. The poor girl looked like she wanted to melt through the floor and disappear forever.

"White with two, Granger," Blaise put in his order too, grinning from beside Malfoy where he still cradled Ginny's in his arms. For all that she'd learned he was a torment and tease – not to mention entirely too playful for his own good, Hermione could see that he was being very careful with Ginny. He held her loosely enough to keep from hurting her, but tight enough to ensure she was under control in his lap and that she wouldn't just slump forwards into her tea-cup or slip between his knees to the floor. If she was being honest they even looked rather good together and Hermione felt a little like a traitor for even thinking it.

"Theo? Tea?" Hermione asked, snatching up cups as she went and passing them to their recipients.

"Strong and black, Granger, thanks," Theo grumbled broodily from Luna's far side. His was by the easiest match to accept given that there wasn't a mountain's worth of animosity between the two of them, and Luna was delightful, if odd. Yet he seemed a little out of sorts. Hermione supposed she couldn't blame him. As much as she adored Luna, Hermione didn't imagine she'd fare very well at being told she had to marry the quirky Ravenclaw witch.

When everyone else had their tea Hermione elbowed Malfoy, waiting for him to speak up. She had been intending to exclude him from being given the privilege of having her make him tea, but there was little point. She might not much like the notion of having to marry him, but creating additional animosity on top of what they already had simply for the sake of being rude seemed foolish to her. Foolish and illogical.

"I'll get it, Granger," he murmured quietly, clearly shocked she'd offered to get him a cup too.

"Just tell me how you have it, Malfoy," Hermione answered tightly, holding her breath when he jostled her slightly on his knee as though he meant to get it himself.

"White with three sugars. Heavy on the milk," he told her, still speaking in a murmur as though he didn't like admitting to having needs.

Hermione fixed his tea in silence, storing the information away inside her mind of how he had it. She imagined it would come in handy when she had to marry the git. The idea nauseated her.

She was going to have to marry him. Not just tolerate him. Not just deal with having him around and being a git. Marriage. She would be expected to snog him. To spend time with him every day.

"Oh my God!" she gasped suddenly as a horrible thought occurred to her, causing her to drop the teacup she had just lifted to her lips, spilling the last few dregs upon the table and causing everyone to look at her.

She was going to have to shag him. To let him get her pregnant. This law had been instigated, first and foremost, with the intention of replenishing the population. Sweet Merlin, she was going to be sick!

"Hermione?" Luna asked, looking concerned as Hermione made a choking sound, gagging on the mouthful of tea she had taken. She couldn't do it. No! He was Draco Malfoy. The very idea of having him see her naked made her feel stupid. The idea of having him touch her inappropriately made her skin crawl uncomfortably.

"Easy there, Granger," Malfoy's voice murmured as she turned towards him on his lap, stricken with horror.

He put his own cup of tea down much more calmly as Hermione stared at him, her eyes wide. No, no this couldn't be. She couldn't be expected to be intimate with him. She couldn't bear his children. Sweet Merlin, the very notion made her feel nauseas. He had been a Death Eater, for crying out loud! He'd loudly and often in the past wished for her death or her untimely demise. He'd believed whole-heartedly, at one time, that she was less than scum.

How could she be expected to lie with him and let him impregnate her? The horror was too great. Already she was mentally riling against the notion of being expected to marry and begin pumping out babies like some medieval-time victim. Now, to add insult to injury, she was expected to let him have sex with her? She was to smile prettily and just agree to the idea of being naked with him? Of trusting him to be a decent father?

She couldn't do it. She _wouldn't_ do it.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" Luna asked her, seeming concerned by her sudden increased breathing rate and her horror-stricken expression.

Malfoy met her gaze as Hermione peered at him as she began to hyperventilate just a little bit. His brow furrowed in concern when she ignored her friend's question, too terrified and sickened by the notion of sleeping with him. Hermione couldn't tell for certain, but when he leaned a little bit closer to her until their noses were almost touching, one of his hands snatching up hers where she'd begun subconsciously trying to clean up the mess she'd made with her now-broken teacup by hand and so managed to cut herself, Malfoy used Legilimency on her again.

He dipped into her mind with such ease and such stealth that she couldn't actually tell he was poking around in her head until a swirl of emotions and memories and thoughts whistled past her mind's eye. He examined them with apparent ease, directing the process to view what he wished with subtle mental prods in the right direction. Inside her own mind, Hermione felt vulnerable to him when whirrings of the limited sexual interaction she'd enjoyed became apparent.

The memory of him shirtless in his dormitory flickered by a few times as well, all mingled horribly with her fear and disgust over the idea of needing to have sex with him. Of being pregnant. Of being required to touch him and be polite to him.

"I won't do it," Hermione whispered fiercely as he withdrew from her mind once more, somehow leaving it slightly clearer and allowing her to control her hyperventilation.

"You will," Malfoy replied in a quiet murmur once more and Hermione was beyond surprised by the fact that he didn't grow arrogant, smug or cruel. He didn't sneer at her about what he'd learned in her mind. Didn't smirk over the memory he'd witnessed of the rushed and rather brisk round of sex she'd had with Ron before the final battle when they both thought they would be dying the next day. He didn't comment about that being the only sexual intercourse she'd experienced.

"You haven't a choice," he reminded her quietly, holding her gaze for another long moment before breaking eye-contact and frowning down at her cut and bleeding hand. Jostling her slightly, Malfoy fished a handkerchief out of his own pocket and used it to press against the seeping cut to stem the bleeding.

"I won't," Hermione repeated, still staring at him in horror. She even tried to imagine a scenario where she would be expected to share a bed with him. To be naked in front of him. And she couldn't do it. Not without cringing in horror and fear of being humiliated. If there was one thing he was gifted at, it was making her doubt her own self-confidence and making her feel stupid. And for the brightest witch of the age, feeling stupid was not a common occurrence.

"Now then, if I could have your attention once more?" Professor McGonagall's voice cut off his ability to reply while he fussed over her hand, taking the handkerchief away and using his wand to heal the wound she'd made before he repaired her tea-cup, vanished the spilled tea and cleaned the blood and mess from her hand. He did so diligently. Almost kindly. As though he was completely consumed by the task and wanting to make certain she was properly cared for after her own foolishness. Hermione wondered how he could do so when he'd been in her head and felt first-hand the sickening roil in her stomach at the very idea of being intimate with him.

"I would like to take this moment to remind you all of something very important pertaining to this law. I do not doubt that there are those among you entertaining notions of refusing to marry the person the Sorting Hat has paired you with. Entertaining notions of fleeing the law for a time until it is no longer in effect," McGonagall said sternly, "I am here to warn you that every one of your names has been recorded and that a Trace – much like that used on known criminals – has been applied to your magical signature. Should you attempt to flee, you will be pursued. Should you refuse your match, you will be expected to give up your magic and live instead as a muggle."

Professor McGonagall's sharp voice rang out over the hall with a certain finality.

"Understand this. If you do no cooperate; if you do not meet all the requirements of this law or you refuse to go through with the marriage, you will have both your magical essence and all memory of the magical world removed. You will be deposited into the muggle world and you will be expected to fend for yourself once there. None of your experiences within our world will remain with you. No memories of Hogwarts or the War or your friends. You will have no contact with your friends or family within the magical community. You will be just a muggle with no memory of their life pre-dating the time of your Magical Expungance. Is that clear?"

Across the hall a few people who hadn't been crying began to do so then. Even some of the thus far mostly stoic wizard populous within the hall broke down and began to realise the true hopelessness of their situation.

"I trust that the arrangement, repugnant as it is, will be preferable to that," Professor McGonagall informed them, "Now I have been instructed to convey to all of you the clauses of this Marriage Law. The first and foremost of which is that you all have one year, or until such time as both parties have completed their education to be legally married. Is that clear?"

She waited as people nodded and mumbled their understanding.

"The year you have in which to be wed is to allow for proper preparations to be made and to ensure all of you are comfortable with one another enough for the second and most important reason for this barbaric law being passed," McGonagall went one, "Children. All of you affected by this law are expected, from the time of your wedding night onwards, to begin trying immediately and frequently to conceive life with the intention of becoming parents."

Hermione clenched her fists at the mention of the very thing she had just been hyperventilating about. It was beyond barbaric. It was downright obscene.

"All of you have been tasked with the duty of birthing four healthy children to your union," Professor McGonagall told them, raising her voice a little to be heard over the din as people began muttering angrily and some people began to look ill, "This will be achieved by the traditional method of sexual intercourse. Which all of you are to partake in at a minimum of a weekly basis until four children have been born to your union."

"What?" Hermione's head snapped up, her eyes going wide as she swivelled on Malfoy's lap to stare, horror-stricken, at Professor McGonagall. Cries of shock and protest went out across the hall.

"I'm not shagging some stranger on a weekly basis!" someone shouted from the far side of the hall, creating another uproar as everyone grew restless with horror over this barbaric law.

"Hermione….?" Katie asked weakly, more tears streaming down her face, "Hermione I can't. NO! I won't. I won't do it!"

"Easy there, Bell," Marcus said, a twisted grin affixed upon his face, "You know deep down you've always wanted to shag me."

SMACK!

Hermione blinked in surprise when the usually non-violent ex-Gryffindor Chaser turned on Marcus Flint quick as a cat and slapped him right across the face for his comment.

"Foreplay, love?" Marcus growled, his abused cheek turning red with her hand-print and a cruel light coming into his eyes, "I'm a fan of such things, you know? But keep it up and we'll see how well you like it when I return the favour. When I bend you over my knee and spank that tight little arse."

Katie burst into furious tears once more while everyone in the vicinity listened in to their spat.

"Marcus," Malfoy's voice suddenly warned when Marcus made to stroke his hand a little more harshly over Katie's hair and down her back.

Flint paused, his hand poised to touch the bawling witch once more. He glanced over at Malfoy, looking right by Hermione as though she weren't sitting in his lap and looking utterly horrified.

"She's your _betrothed_ ," Malfoy warned Marcus in a low voice and there was something about the emphasis he put on the word that stopped Marcus. His jaw clenched, a muscle there beginning to tick for a moment before he lowered his hand back to the table. He held Malfoy's glare for several long moments, his eyes hard before he glanced at the crying witch once more. Hermione watched with fascination when the fury that had been sparking in his hardened gaze suddenly melted away.

In its place was a little frown of concern that wrinkled his smooth brow. Hermione could hardly believe the change in his expression. Moments ago he'd been utterly furious about being slapped and rather indifferent to Katie's suffering as she cried over the idea of having to marry him. As he watched the sobbing witch, her hands hiding her face from view and her breath ragged, Marcus Flint fished a handkerchief out of his pocket before he reached for Katie gently. She flinched back from his touch with a little squeak of what seemed to be fear and Marcus's concerned frown deepened.

Prying one hand off her face carefully, almost gently, Marcus dabbed at the damp side of her face he'd revealed beneath her hand. Katie was shocked into stillness, her breath catching in her chest as the cruel wizard dried the tears on her cheek before peeling the other hand from her face as well and drying the other cheek as well. He didn't offer her an apology, either verbal or silent. In fact, he didn't speak at all. He simply dried the tears on her face before giving her the handkerchief carefully. Then he reached for her empty teacup, refilled it with tea the way Katie had said she liked it and pressed that into her free hand as well.

All while his left cheek glowed red with the shape of Katie's palm.

Katie was clearly completely confused. She blinked at the wizard in utter bewilderment as he was kind to her after what she'd done. Hermione twisted once more on Malfoy's lap, temporarily forgetting that she'd just been informed she was to shag him on a weekly basis until she'd given him four children. She didn't understand the sudden change in Marcus's demeanour. He'd been toying with Katie, amused by upsetting her. Ready to upset her and embarrass her even more.

And one mention of the witch being his fiancé had changed his attitude entirely. Hermione peered into Malfoy's face, raising her eyebrows in silent question. He stared back at her, his face blank and expressionless, giving nothing at all about his understanding of the situation away.

"There are a number of other stipulations that must be met along with this marriage law," McGonagall was saying up on the podium as Hermione tried to read Draco Malfoy's face for some clue to what had just happened, "Including the requirement of daily interaction with your intended and several classes pertaining to married life and family life. Over the coming month all of you are expected to remain at Hogwarts or Hogsmeade to undertake these classes. They will be scheduled throughout the day to accommodate for the requirement of some of you to undertake the rest of your NEWT level studies."

"What about my job?" someone asked, confused.

"For the following month, the Ministry has agreed to subsidise all of you at full-wage for your position while this venture is undertaken, as is it of utmost importance to the magical community as a whole," Professor McGonagall informed them, "For now you all have the afternoon to yourselves. The rest of this week while the senior students are still exempt from regular lessons will be spent undertaking several hours a day of Marriage Law classes. This will include a complete breakdown of the law, a number of sessions where you will be expected to get to know your spouse and to undertake sessions with a psychiatrist individually and together as a couple to ensure these unions will run smoothly. For the time being the afternoon is yours. Please be aware that your families have been contacted and are currently awaiting each of you outside the Great Hall to hear the news about your intended. There are also a number of Aurors on hand for your protection and to ensure no one reacts poorly and tries to flee the jurisdiction of the Ministry."

With all of that said, Professor Minerva McGonagall dismissed them and left everyone sitting in a state of utter shock.


	8. Chapter 8: Heart in Chains

**A/N: Aright everyone, so I had a bad day today and I thought that maybe if I gave you some lovely new chapters across lots of my fics it might send some positive karma my way to make up for my shitty mood. I'm so pleased so many of you are enjoying Marcus and the other Slytherins. I'm adoring writing them. They're such fun. Thanks so much to all of you who have been so dedicated with reviewing. It's so sweet of you and improves my day immensely. I hope you love this chapter and this window into Pureblood practices. Don't forget to let me know if you catch any typos (they are my nemesis). Much love! xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Little Do You Know**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Heart in Chains**

* * *

Draco sat in stunned silence for several long moments following the Headmistress's dismissal. Granger was still seated upon his lap, her eyes affixed to his face as though to glean some understanding of the exchange between himself and Marcus over his treatment of his betrothed.

It had been ill befitting of one such as Marcus to provoke and demean his witch so, and Draco wasn't above pulling him up on it. They might've been raised vile, cruel bastards in most things but there was one requirement in pureblood society that dictated a change in that behaviour. And that requirement was that no matter one's personal feelings regarding the witch they had been betrothed too, a certain sense of dignity and decorum was required when interacting with their intended witch.

In many ways it was old fashioned and even somewhat patronising but Draco, along with his pureblooded peers, had been raised a gentleman and taught that the day would come when his marriage was arranged. And upon that day the witch in question might indeed be particularly emotional and distraught to learn her fate. It was not the place of her future husband to further upset, aggravate or provoke his future wife. It was not befitting men or wizards of their standing to allow themselves such emotional outbursts as were permitted to witches.

No. It was the place of a betrothed wizard to realise that the witch in question would be falling under his protection and his possession in many ways. It was the place of a wizard to be strong in his witch's moments of weakness. It was his place to protect and care for that witch, no matter personal distaste for the woman. It was the place of a wizard to be her shield and it was the place of that witch to be his heart.

Since the cradle Draco had been taught that when he married, if he wished for a harmonious match free of constant drama and conflict – which might lead to embarrassment or disgrace – that he was to protect, provide for and be kind to his betrothed. Similarly, witches of pureblood birth were taught that it was their place to be perfectly respectable and upstanding wives to their intended husbands. To be worthy of the protection and decency their betrothed offered them.

The perfect example could be found inside the match between his own parents. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had perfected their match and while Draco knew neither had favoured the other when they'd been betrothed, they had grown to love one another dearly. His father was the rock his mother relied on to protect herself and her son from the cruelty of the world. He was sharp witted, sharp tongued and fundamentally strong in both body and mind.

His mother, in turn, was the tender heart protected by the shield his father made. She was loving and tender and kind. Only with her did his father ever let down his usually cold and collected sternness. Only with her could he indulge in every one of his whimsies and even in silliness and play. Only his mother was capable to inspire a playfulness in the otherwise cool wizard. Only she could provide him what he needed.

It was not something based on erotic or sexual pleasure being derived from exercising one's dominance over the other. It was a contract of the psyche. In her own right his mother was a strong, independent and fierce witch. She didn't _need_ his father's protection. She didn't _need_ him to keep her safe and be emotionally supportive of each of her whimsies. She didn't _need_ him to dry her tears, heal her hurts or dote on her hand and foot whenever he could. She didn't require it. She could function without it and indeed she had done so while his father had been incarcerated in Azkaban during the war.

Similarly, his father didn't _need_ his mother to allow herself to be emotionally vulnerable to him. He didn't need her to come to him with notions and ideas of things that might make her happy. He didn't require that she submit her every fantasy or passing daydream to him. He didn't demand or even ask that she come to him with any one of her problems that needed handling.

It wasn't that type of interaction.

There was no sexual pleasure derived from being a shield or a heart at least, not unless the couple wanted there to be. A heart, after all, is strong and steady. A heart is one's reason for being, one's ability to go on living. Without a heart, one was lost. The requirement of a wizard to be the shield to his witch's heart was not so literal as it was metaphorical. One with a shield but no heart is one bereft of life, love or happiness. One with a heart but no shield was open and vulnerable to the world.

Draco had witnessed many times throughout his life the by-play between his mother and father in such a sense. His mother would come to his father with ideas that, to Draco, had seemed like silly rubbish his father wouldn't wish to be bothered with. Yet every time she had done so, his father had indulged her, had helped her, had encouraged her wherever and however he could and had done all he could to see her idea into fruition. In instances where what she wanted was foolish, unattainable or stupid, he would tell her so. At times, quite harshly. Sometimes what she needed was to be told no, even if she might pout about it. And his father excelled in giving Draco's mother what she needed.

More times than he could count, when he'd been just a boy, Draco had witnessed the change in his father when his mother was around. To everyone else, Lucius Malfoy was a cold-hearted, sly, conniving bastard; as powerful an enemy as he was an ally. He was calculating. He was cunning. He was utterly ruthless when it was called for and sometimes also when it was not. He could look a man in the eye and claim that his right to continue breathing ought to be suspended over some petty grievance. Yet where Narcissa Malfoy was concerned he was doting, loving, kind and even indulgent.

She could come to him in tears over a broken china set – something she could easily fix herself – and even if he were in an important meeting regarding official Malfoy business pertaining to their international investments, Lucius would mend it for her, dry her tears, console her and ensure she was happy again before he would return his attention to his business. His mother didn't _need_ to be coddled in such a way. His father didn't _need_ her to interrupt him and make him feel needed by feigning inability to console herself and handle her own problems.

It was not about need in that sense. It was about caring for the other. About anticipating how best to provide the other with things they didn't even know they wanted or needed. His mother cared for his father in all things. She fixed him tea whether he asked for it or not; she smoothed the wrinkles from his robes or licked her thumb and smoothed down an unruly eyebrow hair. She curled into her husband's arms and surrendered herself to him completely in all things. Everything she had, everything she was, she would give to Lucius. In turn, he did the same for her.

She was his Heart. She owned the heart that beat in his chest. He was her Shield. He protected her in all things, whether she needed it or not because that's what shields were for. To protect the hearts of their wielders. Every wizard of pureblood society that had a wife or a betrothed was the same way. It was rare to see, but Draco had witnessed the parents of his friends exhibiting the same tendencies. It was simply a part of pureblood culture.

But Draco could never explain something like that to the likes of Hermione Granger. Indeed, Marcus could never explain it to Katie Bell; Blaise could never explain it to Ginevra Weasley and Goyle could never explain it to Lavender Brown. Draco wasn't sure about Lovegood. She might not need it explained to her. Theo might not need to lay it out for her in simple terms. The girl was intuitive enough to understand such things on her own.

Granger, on the other hand would have curled her lip and recoiled from explanation of such things the minute he informed her it was a witch's place to be worthy of her Shield. Witches like Granger were strong, fierce, smart, independent and did not need or particularly want anyone doting on them and protecting them and anticipating their every need. She certainly didn't _need_ it. And that was precisely why she would get it. A witch's worthiness of being the Heart to someone's Shield hinged on her ability to be strong without him. For there were times when one's shield might fail and all that was left was the strength of one's heart to see them both through.

There were times when true strength lay not in independence and one's own ability to perform tasks but it submitting the control of one's very self to another in all things. Times when one needed to feel needed even if they were in the most literal sense, unrequired. That was true strength, in Draco opinion. To be able to submit one's body, mind, heart and soul to the hands of another; to put so much trust in another person to care as one might care for themselves, was a very brave and very powerful thing.

But he could never explain all that to Hermione Granger in simple terms without her flying into a snit and possibility hexing him. Draco would simply have to show her.

The reminder of what was appropriate with one's betrothed spurred the rest of his friends to see to the needs of their newly betrothed witches. Goyle was in the process of trying to rouse Lavender from where she was still resting her head on the table. She hadn't reacted to being told she would have to shag Goyle on a weekly basis. In fact since she'd been given a cup of tea she'd quieted. Now she simply laid her head upon the table as though she couldn't bear anymore.

"Erm…" Goyle began, awkwardly reaching for the blonde-haired witch and hesitating before resting one meaty hand upon her slim shoulder. She tensed under his touch, "They said… um… that our families are outside… Do you want to erm… go and see them?"

Brown's head shot up suddenly, startling Goyle though he didn't recoil from her.

"My Mum's here?" she asked, her eyes widening and she turned her puffy and tear-stained eyes to Goyle. Goyle held her gaze for a moment.

"McGonagall said everyone's families had been contacted. She might be," he offered.

"I need to see her," Brown insisted, getting quickly to her feet before she dashed around the table and out the doors of the Great Hall, or trying to. She had to stop at the doors – which were closed – and wait for assistance to pull the heavy ingresses open. She was too small to do it alone. Goyle was quick to jump in and assist her, lumbering after her and nudging her aside slightly when she made a sound of frustration at being incapable of pulling them open by herself.

"You alright, love?" Blaise was muttering to Weaselette, stroking one hand up and down her back in a calming sort of gesture.

"Let me up, please," Weasley replied evenly. Her eyes still leaked the occasional tear but all signs of hysteria, fury or heartbreak had been concealed.

Draco's eyes tightened when Granger's head suddenly snapped over to Weasley.

"Ginny," Granger began in a soft voice, "Ginny, no. You don't want to do whatever it is you're thinking about doing."

Blaise, who had been in the process of releasing the witch on his lap, suddenly tightened his arms around her once more.

"Oh, but I do," Ginevra purred in a voice that might've been erotic if not for the manic gleam that came into her eyes.

"You don't," Granger insisted, "I understand that you're upset. We all are. But you can't kill anyone, Ginny. You know that."

Blaise looked alarmed and Draco wondered how the girl's calm demeanour had tipped off Granger that she was contemplating murder.

"Hermione, the bitch stole my boyfriend," Weaselette hissed suddenly, her eyes wild with fury, "And she can't fucking have him if she's dead."

Draco's eyes widened in surprise by the complete ruthlessness and lack of emotion in her expression but for the manic gleam in her eyes. She was clearly unhinging and Draco didn't know what to do about it.

"Let me go," Granger whispered to him suddenly, her hands prying his arms loose of her waist as she got to her feet.

Draco did as she asked when he realised the Weaselette might actually lose it. Before she even clambered free of him she leaned over to the girl in Blaise's lap, delved her hand under the hem of the girl's jumper and fished her wand from her waistband.

"Hold her Blaise," Granger commanded, placing her free hand on Draco's shoulder and hopping right over his legs and the bench to land beside the table. As soon as she was free, she dashed away.

"Hermione Granger you give me back my wand this instant!" Ginny screamed, writhing furiously in Blaise's hold until Blaise let her loose. Granger had darted out the door and away, clearly intent on distracting the redhead from murder by taking her device for delivering such a fate to poor Tracy.

"These witches are barmy," Blaise whispered to him when he turned to Draco with wide eyes.

"She's loved Harry since she was ten," Lovegood piped up, getting to her feet on Draco's far side, "She's dreamed of marrying him since she was a girl. Don't judge her actions today too harshly, Blaise."

With that said Lovegood placed her hand on top of Theo's head for a moment, stilling the wizard as he made to rise, before she ruffled his windswept dark hair in a way that Draco suspected was meant to be affectionate, and then she strolled away from them all to follow her friends. Everyone else was making their way out of the hall as well and Draco supposed he ought to follow.

"Should we go and discover Granger's solution to preventing your fiancé from committing murder on poor Tracy?" Theo asked of Blaise and Draco.

"I think we better or I might be single again within the hour when she gets herself carted off to Azkaban," Blaise shook his head, looking unnerved by the witch he'd been instructed to marry.

"Your father is going to lose his mind when he learns about Granger," Theo nudged Draco's shoulder as they all strolled out of the Great Hall and out into the grounds at a leisurely pace.

"It's not like we have any choice but to accept this mess," Draco shrugged.

"You seem awfully calm given that you're to marry a mudblood," Theo ventured further.

" _Don't_ use that word, Theo," Draco warned him, eyes flashing.

"You asked the hat for her, didn't you?" Theo asked quietly, his dark eyes gleaming now, "You said it messed you up. I know it bloody messed me up. Did you _want_ to be put with Granger? You did go strolling over to interrupt her even before it had announced you two were paired."

Draco considered his words carefully as they crossed the rolling grounds towards where Draco could see his parents, in addition to Blaise's mother and step-father, and Theo's mother, all huddled together somewhat away from the ranting, raving and crying taking place as families reunited and despaired over their fate.

"She's a muggle-born, yes," Draco murmured, "A swotty, know-it-all, bookish, bossy little chit as likely to drive me spare as anything else. But we _are_ compatible."

"You know this how?" Blaise wanted to know, "There's no way you two have much in common. Sure you can be a bossy git when you want, but mate, she's a Gryffindor. She's uptight and cranky. The type of mischief you get into would make that wild hair curl even more."

"She's logical under all that bollocks," Draco shrugged his shoulders, "Frighteningly so. If it weren't for her sense of righteousness, she'd be a terrible force to be reckoned with. That kind of logic goes a step beyond making sacrifices to the great good. That kind of logic can rationalise it and make everyone else believe it's acceptable. You saw her today. You or me playing for the opposition would've taken their team down from the inside. Any other Gryffindor playing for us would've been lazy and shoddy and let us fall apart by being unhelpful or getting in the way. She turned on her best friends – people she fought in the war alongside and would've died for. She took them down ruthlessly and barely reacted. All over a friendly game of Quidditch."

Draco shook his head.

"Besides, you heard Lovegood. Apparently the little swot needs an arrogant arsehole to challenge her on a daily basis so she doesn't go getting bored and wandering off."

Blaise snorted, "Well you are certainly that, mate."

Draco smirked widely in agreement.

"Draco? Darling?" his mother said, hurrying over to him when she spotted him coming closer. She wrapped him into a hug, squeezing him tightly before releasing him and peering at him from arm's length.

"Mother," he smiled at the witch fondly while his friends were set upon by their own families, "How are you?"

"Oh never mind me, darling! Who have they paired you with? This ridiculous law has upset all my plans! Tell me who she is? Pansy? Daphne?" Narcissa Malfoy fussed over him, her fingers jumping to Draco's tangled blonde fringe where it hung into his eyes.

"Neither of those two, Mother," Draco sighed, batting her hands away gently, "Father?"

He offered his hand to his father to shake. Lucius took it firmly, shaking it before tugging Draco into an embrace. Since the war – since nearly being torn apart as a family unit - his father had reverted back to being affectionate with Draco as he hadn't since Draco had been just a boy.

"DAMN IT, GRANGER!" Ginny Weasley suddenly shouted over the crowd, "GIVE ME BACK MY WAND THIS MINUTE!"

Draco glanced in the direction of his betrothed to see her sprinting towards the Weasley family, Ginny's wand held aloft before she passed it off to Arthur Weasley with what looked like hurried words of warning to the man before she ducked behind him and peeked around the red-haired man. Ginny was a few paces behind but she skidded to a stop at the sight of her mother and father. Her eldest brother and his wife were also present and Draco watched Granger peek around Arthur again before ducking behind Bill.

She tugged Fleur behind Bill as well to shield her on one side from the rampaging Weaselette before embracing the French witch.

"What's that all about then?" Lucius wanted to know.

"Weaselette's a bit put out about not being paired with Potter," Draco informed him, smirking when his fiancé steered Bill Weasley to protect her from his sibling before ducking behind the only Weasley brother Draco didn't recognise but assumed must be Charlie – the Dragon-Tamer.

"Potter got paired with Tracy Davis and Weaselette was paired with Blaise. The crazy bint broke Tracy's nose. Hexed her a dozen times before punching her right in the face like a common muggle. She had to be given Calming Draught and be restrained by two Aurors. The Draught must've worn off and Granger had to pinch her wand to keep the barmy fool from using the Killing Curse on Tracy to keep her away from Potter," Draco explained, watching the antics of the group as Potter appeared on the scene and attempted to restrain his girlfriend.

He got slapped around a bit for his trouble before relinquishing the girl to her father's stern grip and her mother's lecture on proper decorum. Of course when she informed them she'd been paired with Blaise instead of Potter, before having the indecency to point at Blaise across the grounds, the Weasley family looked like they might commit murder too. Potter hung his head as though ashamed that he hadn't been paired with their daughter before he moved over to Granger and tugged the girl into his embrace.

Draco narrowed his eyes on the pair as they leaned into each other with easy familiarity.

"If they paired Blaise with her and Potter with Tracy," Lucius said shrewdly, "Who did they pair you with Draco?"

Draco bit his lip and scuffed his foot.

"Granger," he muttered, glancing down for a minute, unable to hold his father's gaze, "The hat paired me with Hermione Granger."

"Excuse me?" Lucius growled tightly, clearly believing he must've misheard him.

"Draco, darling…. No," his mother said, shaking her head in denial as though that might make it untrue.

"They paired me with Granger," Draco repeated, lifting his head to stare his family down, "And if we try to weasel our way out of the pairings we're to be stripped of our magic and our memories before being shoved into the muggle world to fend for ourselves. Don't do something foolish, Father."

Draco took hold of the man's wand arm when he noticed his father reaching for the wand stashed inside the cane he carried at all times. Lucius glanced down at Draco's hand as though he meant to throw his son off him before Narcissa's hand appeared on top of Draco too.

"Now, dear," his mother soothed quietly, "It was always a possibility. She's the brightest witch of the age after all. And a war heroine too. Beyond her unfortunate hair and her parentage she's a perfectly accomplished witch."

"She's a mudblood!" Lucius hissed, his eyes flashing hatefully.

"She's my betrothed, Father," Draco warned the man, his grip tightening on his father's wand arm when it twitched.

"A mudblood tarnishing the Malfoy bloodline?" he demanded of his wife, though his face paled slightly at Draco's words, "It's an outrage. _Sanctimonia Vincent Semper!_ "

"Purity will always conquer," his mother nodded her head carefully, "But do not pretend, Lucius, that the Malfoy bloodline has not stooped to the likes of half-bloods and mudbloods a time or two in the past. You know it is true. We sweep it under the rug and Purity conquers once more."

"Not when the witch in question is a prominent and famous mudblood!" Lucius hissed, "How are we to conceal her blood status from the histories when she is well known as being a mudblood? It's carved into her forearm, for Merlin's sake!"

"Lucius Malfoy, enough!" Narcissa snapped sharply, "The time has come to do away with blood mania. We are still tripping on the coattails of a blood prejudice driven war that nearly cost this family everything. You _will not_ jeopardise us further with mentions of blood status to anyone. This is merely an opportunity. We will be seen to embrace the mudblood witch into our midst and all will believe we have done away with such currently unfavourable notions as blood status."

Lucius grit his teeth furiously and glanced away from his wife towards Granger once more but Draco knew his mind had begun to spin with possibility of how best to play this off.

"In any case, she is the most accomplished witch of her age, in spite of her blood. Much as we have been raised to believe that blood is important, it has not proved so with her. She is more magically gifted than any since Dumbledore. She is bright. She is powerful and she withstood Bella's torment with her mind still intact. Moreover she spoke for us at our trials. Were it not for her, you might not be free to stand here and discuss this with me, dear husband," Narcissa went on sternly, "We have always wanted the best for our Draco. She is the best witch of the age and with a little work I can make her to most beautiful too."

"Good luck with that, Mother," Draco snorted, knowing for a fact that the girl would resist. She was already very pretty, really. And if she went to an effort she could indeed be heartbreakingly beautiful. But she did not care so very much about appearance. As was evidenced when Draco looked across the grounds towards the witch once more and spotted her wriggling out of her overcoat and lowering the zip on her hoodie far enough that Draco could read the name 'Malfoy' scrawled across her chest from here.

She'd clearly forgotten she was wearing his jersey in the aftermath of the midday storm and was growing warm beneath the rare sunshine of the afternoon. It wouldn't last long. Draco could still see the cracks of lightning and hear the booms of thunder in the distance. The clouds hung heavily over the grounds too, threatening to burst open again.

In his opinion she looked rather becoming with her dress worn over his jersey, his name scrawled across her chest and on display, peeking out from inside her hoodie. Her unruly curls were still drying slowly, hanging in tight ringlets and beginning to frizz with the warmth as the storm gathered again.

"What is she wearing?" his mother asked, turning in her direction as well and eyeing her with some distaste.

"Is that your Quidditch jersey?" Lucius asked, eyes narrowed, "Is she already sporting the Malfoy name?"

"I don't dilly-dally, Father," Draco smirked, winking at his mother, "Slytherin was a man short for a friendly match against Gryffindor earlier and I sweet-talked Granger into playing for us."

"She knows how to fly a broom?" his father scoffed.

"She's a demon on it when given a Beater's bat and Bludgers to flog at the opposition. She broke a few of Potter's ribs this morning, playing for me," Draco replied rather proudly, "Of course, she also broke my shoulder and nearly killed me when I was diving for the snitch and had foolishly allowed her to catch me poking around in her head."

"You used Legilimency on her at school?" his mother hissed disapprovingly.

"Did it on the train by accident," Draco nodded, "That's how I knew she could fly when her friends had no idea. Might've been poking about in her head in the sheds at half-time and been caught after Weaselbee tried to guilt-trip her into quitting because Slytherin was winning."

"Of all the people in the school you could have asked to play Beater, you asked Potter's mudblood?" Lucius asked suspiciously.

Draco narrowed his eyes at his father in return.

"If you keep using that word in reference to my betrothed, Father," Draco warned coldly, "You and I will have a problem."

Lucius looked surprised for a moment before a frown marred his face and he turned away coldly. Draco glanced at his mother, who nodded and smiled slightly at his behaviour. Lucius might not like it, but he'd acted appropriately in the defence of his bride-to-be, even against his own father. Narcissa eyed him speculatively then and Draco could tell she'd realised that his actions meant he had already anticipated being paired with Granger.

"Well then, my darling," she said finally, "I suppose you ought to introduce us to her properly. Will you fetch her?"

Draco raised his eyebrows, wondering if his mother had lost her mind. Did she imagine it would be easy to _fetch_ a witch like Granger? Asking an egg-crazed dragon if he could borrow a few for an omelette would be less perilous!


	9. Chapter 9: A Sprinkle of Pixie Dust

**A/N: Look! Another new update for you! Aren't you pleased? Thanks for all the love you've been giving this fic everyone. Rest assured I'm pecking away at new chapter for all your other favourites as well and I hope to update them again soon. Much love! xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Little Do You Know**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 9: A Sprinkle of Pixie Dust**

* * *

Hermione sighed into Harry's neck as she hugged him fiercely. The chaos of the Weasley family was loud and Molly was exclaiming over the matches made for her children. She was an emotional wreck. Arthur had been forced to tuck a now-sobbing Ginny into his chest and so his sons were left to handle their crying mother. Harry, Hermione knew, felt like he'd let them down.

"It's not your fault, Harry," Hermione whispered in his hair, "It's not your fault that you and Ginny aren't compatible. It's not my fault or Ron's fault that we aren't either. Ginny will get over her shock and realise there must be something about Blaise that resulted in them being paired. The Weasley's aren't going to disown us just because we're not legally allowed to marry their children."

"They're my family. You and the Weasley's are all I've got left. Mum and Dad are gone. Sirius is gone. Remus is gone. Dumbledore's gone. You and the Weasley's are all I have!" Harry murmured quietly, clutching her to him as though he were a little boy rather than a grown man.

"And you'll always have us, Harry," Hermione whispered, "With my Mum and Dad still having no clue who I am, you're all I've got too, you know?"

"I can't believe that stupid hat put you with Malfoy," Harry mumbled, "He's horrid. You're too good for him, Hermione."

"Don't get me started on my match, Harry," Hermione sighed, carding her fingers through Harry's hair, "I don't know much about Tracy, but she must be decent if she'd been paired as being compatible with you."

"I don't want to marry her, Hermione. I want to marry Ginny. I love Ginny," Harry protested.

"I know, Harry," Hermione sighed, "I don't want to marry Malfoy either. I doubt Ron wants to marry Hannah and I know Ginny doesn't want to marry Blaise…. But we haven't got a choice."

"I wish we still had that time-turner," Harry whispered, "I'd go back a few hours, sneak off with Ginny and elope like Parkinson suggested."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione chuckled in spite of herself as she released her best friend and surrogate-brother to peering into his green eyes. He looked forlorn and saddened, "I'm going to do everything I can to find a loophole in this law and get us all out of it."

Harry gave her a half-heart lopsided grin.

"Even if you find a loophole, I don't think Malfoy will let you go easily, Hermione," he told her quietly, reaching up to tuck an unruly curl behind her ear, "He was on his feet and heading for you before the hat even announced that you two were paired. He was nice to you today about the game when he didn't have to be. You're even still wearing the jersey with his name on it."

Harry pointed at the word Malfoy scrawled across her chest.

"I don't know how he knew it was you he'd been paired with or why he decided to head you off before you could make a break for it, but I don't think he's going to let you go easily. I think he's got a thing for you, Hermione. Why else would he be using Legilimency on you?"

Hermione blanched at the very idea.

Malfoy had been unusually nice to her since this whole thing had been mentioned, but then Hermione had just put it down to the possibility of them being paired and not wanting to start something that would only cause problems later. Not that she wasn't still furious with him for using Legilimency on her. He had no right to her innermost thoughts.

"Even so Harry," Hermione shrugged, choosing to ignore his projections abut Malfoy for now, "Have you read about marriages in the magical world? They're not like muggle weddings. The magic is binding. If we marry these people like we've been told to, we're stuck with them for life. The only way out is if when one's spouse croaks."

She pulled the book on magical weddings she'd been reading that morning from her pocket, enlarging it once more before flipping it open to show him the passage about the binding spells used in the ceremonies.

"Bloody hell," Harry sighed, "But then again, much as none of us wants to go through with this mess, it's for the kids. You know? I mean, I don't want to marry some bird I don't even know. I don't want to see you stuck with Malfoy and Ginny stuck with Zabini. But if we don't do it; if everyone doesn't start pumping out kids soon, then some of those little shits inside there are going to be forced to marry people twice their age. And if I have to have kids with Tracy, I don't want to put the rugrats through a divorce."

Hermione blinked at him, realising he was right. She had a year to find some way to stop this nonsense or they would all be married and becoming parents much too soon. If she didn't find a loophole by then, they were all bollocksed.

"Oh Hermione, I haven't even asked you who you're paired with?" Mrs Weasley shuffled over, still crying before she pulled both Harry and Hermione into a cuddle.

"Erm… actually Mrs Weasley," Hermione blushed as she was released.

"What is that you're wearing, dear?" Molly asked suddenly when she'd released them, squinting at Hermione's chest where Malfoy's name was scrawled on the jersey she wore.

"Is that…?" Molly trailed off.

"The name of my fiancé?" Hermione sighed heavily, "Yeah. The hat stuck me with Malfoy."

"Oh dear," Molly said, paling horribly, "Oh this will never do! Ginny's pairing with that Zabini boy was bad enough but this… No, this can't be allowed. We'll speak to Kingsley. As Minister he might be able to do something. You can't marry that terrible boy, Hermione. Not after all he's done to you kids."

Molly's tears dried then as the seriousness of Hermione's pairing weighed on her mind heavily.

"I'll find a loophole around the law, Mrs Weasley," Hermione told her solemnly, "The minute I get my hands on that law I'm going over it with a fine-tooth comb. I'll find a way out of this."

Molly was nodding before a voice drawled from behind that made Hermione stiffen.

"What makes you think I'll let you go?" Malfoy's voice suddenly purred into her ear and Hermione stiffened to find him suddenly pressed against her back, his hands on her hips and holding her in place when she startled violently, her hand leaping for her wand and fumbling it thanks to the book she was still clutching.

"Malfoy," Harry growled at the blonde haired git when he caught Hermione's gasp, having been distracted momentarily by Mrs Weasley's questions about his pairing.

"Potter," Malfoy drawled and Hermione didn't have to see his face to know the blonde was smirking.

"Get your hands off Hermione, Malfoy," Harry demanded.

Malfoy chuckled darkly.

"Hermione Malfoy," he purred sinfully making the hairs on the back of Hermione's neck stand on end as he played with the way Harry's rushed demand hadn't quite allowed the full length of a pause between the names, slurring them together in a terrible display of foresight for Hermione's impending doom, "Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"No," she answered coldly, stomping on his foot. She tried very hard not to react to the sound of her first name rolling off his tongue. It sounded positively wicked, like a delectable sweet he'd enjoyed with fervour. She didn't think she'd ever heard him say her first name before and it unsettled her greatly to know that the sound gave her goosebumps.

He ignored the assault, one arm sliding around her stomach to hold her in place.

"Now, now. My name looks good on you, Granger," he retorted, sounding entirely too smug for his own good. Hermione hissed in protest when his free hand lifted to her chest and his fingers began tracing the lettering of the word 'Malfoy' where is was embroidered on the jersey she was wearing. She shivered when her struggling brought her into further contact with his lean body where he'd pressed himself against her back.

Her ear was tingling from his lips being pressed so close to it and her mind was thrumming strangely at the sound of her first name rolling off his tongue. No one had a right to sound so sinful and so enthralling whilst saying her name that way.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Hermione asked him, "Sniffing around for more broken bones? I'd be happy to get that bat and beat you with it again."

"You just want to go back to my dormitory, don't you Granger?" he taunted, still trailing his fingers over the lettering on her jersey.

"I'm going to maim you," she informed him, struggling again.

"I'd like to see you try," he purred into her ear, "My parents require a formal introduction to their future daughter-in-law."

"What?" Hermione yelped, forgetting her fury with him over his cheek when he mentioned that notion.

"I believe you heard me," he replied even, still holding her inappropriately.

"Would you get off me?" Hermione hissed at him, "What is your obsession with touching me today?"

"You're my betrothed," he shrugged, jostling her with the movement, though he did release her and step back slightly. Hermione hated the way her body tingled everywhere he'd touched her.

"I wasn't this morning when you sat me on your shoulders at the game," Hermione hissed in a whisper, spinning towards him with narrowed eyes. The Weasleys were all looking on and Ron looked furious. He was being restrained by Bill and Charlie while Percy and George held onto Harry to keep either of them from pouncing on Malfoy.

Hermione glared up into his pointed handsome face in frustration and he smirked widely. She flinched when he reached up and slid his thumb intimately along her lower lip, making Hermione gasp in surprise.

"Weren't you?" he asked his eyes boring into hers and Hermione narrowed them in return.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she snapped, glaring at him furiously.

"Figure it out," he retorted, "Now come with me. My parents don't like to be kept waiting."

He slid his thumb along her lower lip again, smirking even wider when she gasped a second time, the sensitive flesh tingling madly before he took hold of her hand and pulled on it, hauling her away easily.

"Stop manhandling me, Malfoy," Hermione snapped, trying to snatch her hand back from him, "You can't just drag me around and manipulate me at will. I will hex you again if you try. Now let go of me! I'm not about to meet your horrid parents. I have no intention of marrying you and so do not see the point."

Malfoy spun on her so quickly that Hermione hissed in surprise and stumbled right into him. His hands gripped her biceps tightly as he glared down into her face with a hint of fury in his grey eyes.

"Say anything like that again, Granger," he threatened darkly, "And I'll snog you. Right here. In front of everyone."

"Anything like what?" her eyes widened in confusion at his sudden animosity.

"Anything like that you're not going to marry me. You are. You have no bloody choice about it. Just like you have no choice about having to shag me and having to have kids with me. There is no way out of this. I've read the law. I know there's no loophole for you to exploit. Trust me, I'd have found it," he told her sternly, his hands tight around her arms but not so tight as to be painful, "You will marry me because if you don't we'll both have our magic drained and our memories wiped and be forced into the muggle world. And I _will not_ let that happen."

Hermione blinked at him for several long seconds in silence, hearing the Weasleys and Harry calling after her, wanting to make sure she was alright.

"You've read the law?" Hermione asked, her mind suddenly clicking onto what he'd said.

He nodded sharply, releasing her arms once more and taking her hand again, intent on dragging her over to where his parents were. Hermione stumbled along behind him, her curiosity about the law overcoming her concern over being officially introduced to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

"What does it say? Do you have a copy? You might've missed something," Hermione questioned as she was hauled along behind him.

"There's no way out, Granger," he sighed, "Admirable as your passion for finding a way to be free of me is, you won't achieve your objective. The closest thing to a loophole is a clause exempting those among our age bracket incapable of conceiving life. We're all to be tested before we're allowed to marry. Anyone who is infertile need not participate in the weekly shagging clause because the goal of each union is to replenish the population. So unless you happen to be infertile, you're stuck with me. And even if you were infertile, we'd end up being one of those couples who have to adopt the cast-offs and orphans of others, so it's a null point."

"That's the only loophole?" Hermione demanded, tugging her hand free of his grip and shaking the too-long sleeves of the jersey she wore down over them. He'd made her drop her book over where the Weasley's were, so Hermione hoped Harry had picked it up before it could be ruined by the wet grass.

"There's nothing that touches on anything else? What about mental instability? Unfitness to be a parent? Disability?" she demanded.

"Do you have any of those things? I mean, I know you're barmy, but it clarifies that you must be clinically insane – as in locked up in St Mungo's, unfit to be around people in general," Malfoy replied evenly, snatching her wrist up when he saw she'd balled her fists around the sleeves of the jersey.

"Well, no, I don't. But there must be some way out of this!" Hermione protested, "I don't want to marry you. You've been horrible to me for the entire time I've known you!"

Malfoy stopped and turned slowly to look at her at her words and Hermione took a small step back from him, recalling his threat about snogging.

"I was looking out for you half the time, you know?" he asked, tilting his head speculatively at her, "I could've ratted you out when you were brought to the Manor. I knew it was Potter. If I'd identified you, you'd all be dead right now."

"You wished, loudly and in front of half the school, for my death Malfoy!" Hermione protested.

"When?" he frowned.

"Second year! You proclaimed after Mrs Norris was petrified that Mudbloods would be next. And then you said that you hoped the next person attacked would be me whilst wishing for the school to be closed!" Hermione snapped at him.

"I…" Malfoy frowned suddenly, "I said that to Crabbe and Goyle… how do you know about it?"

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise when he didn't even deny it.

"Harry and Ron were pretending to be Crabbe and Goyle to interrogate you about the Chamber of Secrets being opened," she admitted, "Polyjuice potion. I was meant to be there too, pretending to be Milly. But something went wrong."

"Those bastards interrogated me? How the hell did they get Polyjuice potion in second year?"

"I brewed it," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You brewed Polyjuice potion in second year? We don't even brew that at NEWT level!" he looked outraged.

"Try to remember that I'm brilliant, would you?" Hermione replied smugly, "What other exemptions are there to the law?"

"None Granger," he informed her, rolling his eyes at her comment, "The Ministry means to announce next week that they will give monetary incentives to all witches and wizards who conceive independently to further raise the population count. The only way we all get out of this is if, in the next year, the population count rises by at least a thousand. Which is pretty much impossible unless everyone still capable of bearing children has triplets or quadruplets."

He dragged her once more towards his parents and Hermione felt butterflies of nervousness and fear begin to revolt inside her stomach. They were very intimidating. In the months since the end of the war – when both Malfoys had looked rather ragged, run-down and stressed – Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were once again at their best.

Lucius especially looked much as he had done that Hermione could recall from her younger years meeting the man. His robes impeccable, his chin raised defiantly, his long blonde hair loose about his shoulder in thick, silky tresses. He was also scowling at her as though it were all her fault she'd been paired with Draco. Hermione had little knowledge of Draco's mother, Narcissa.

The woman was tall and she emanated power and grace. Dressed in the latest fashion trends for witches her age that Hermione had read about in the Prophet, her hair and make-up were perfect. She eyed Hermione speculatively, though Hermione didn't detect any hostility in her gaze the way she had done with Lucius. Narcissa's eyes raked over Hermione, taking in every detail and suddenly Hermione found herself feeling self-conscious.

Dressed in tights that were now slightly marked from her earlier Quidditch match, which were paired with Draco's too-large-on-her Slytherin jersey underneath her sundress and hoodie; her hair all in a mess, Hermione felt a little raggedy compared to the marvellously manicured Malfoys. Even Draco managed to look strapping and regal in his Quidditch gear, his thick blonde hair messy and hanging in his amused grey eyes.

Returning the favour, Hermione raked her gaze over both Malfoys before she turned to Draco and raised her eyebrows at him questioningly. Neither Malfoy spoke, so Hermione didn't either. She wasn't about to go out on a limb and introduce herself to them – proffering the proverbial olive branch – when they were making no such efforts at common courtesy.

Draco smirked at her for a long moment while Hermione stared at him, waiting for him to do the formal introductions. Hermione could tell he was getting a kick out of making her feel uncomfortable as she waited and so Hermione narrowed her eyes on him slightly and waited without displaying her impatience.

"Mother, Father may I formally introduce my new fiancé, Hermione Granger," Malfoy said finally, his smirk growing even wider as though he could tell she was irritated despite her efforts to conceal her emotions.

"Granger, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy," he went on.

"Miss Granger," Narcissa said, offering her a tight smile and a handshake.

Hermione eyed it for a moment, considering the notion of refusing to shake before deciding against it. Instead she extended her hand.

Or tried to.

Malfoy snorted at her when Hermione found her fists still clenched around the fabric of the jersey she'd pulled down over them to keep them warm. Sighing in annoyance Hermione jerked the sleeve up and shook Narcissa's cold hand heartily. Lucius was smirking now as well as Draco and Narcissa looked slightly amused.

"Mrs Malfoy," Hermione said tightly.

Lucius offered his hand to her next and Hermione shook it briskly too.

"Mr Malfoy," she inclined her head.

"Miss Granger," Lucius said, "Might we be also meeting your parents on this dreadful day?"

Hermione felt like she'd been kicked in the stomach at his words. She'd yet to be able to rectify the damage she'd done with her memory charm on her parents and so they were still living in Australia. Seeming to sense he'd said something to upset her, Lucius frowned slightly while Hermione balled her fist back inside her sleeve, and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth.

"They're muggles, Father," Draco reminded Lucius carefully, though he too seemed to notice she was upset about something, "They would be unable to come to Hogwarts or Hogsmeade."

"Indeed," Lucius said, curling his lip away from his teeth in disgust over the idea, "Another time then, perhaps? It wouldn't do to be strangers with my son's mother and father in law."

"My parents are…" Hermione began in a small voice, looking at her feet as she wrapped her arms around her stomach, trying not to cry over how much she suddenly missed her Mum and Dad.

"Oh Merlin, they're not dead, are they?" Narcissa blurted, looking horror-stricken.

"No they… erm… to protect them during the war I… well, I … modified their memories and sent then away from England. They… they no longer recall they have a daughter," Hermione admitted haltingly.

"Oh," Narcissa said awkwardly.

"I erm… I hadn't tried a memory charm before and I'm afraid I was a little too over-zealous with it. I didn't plan on surviving the war and I didn't them tortured for associating with me or suffering the grief of losing me. I've been unable to undo the modification as of yet," Hermione admitted, feeling small.

She jumped in surprise when Malfoy stepped a little closer to her until his shoulder brushed hers carefully in silent comfort over her parents.

"How unfortunate," Lucius said, not at all sounding like he thought it was unfortunate. He sounded relieved that he might never have to meet them, muggles that they were, "Tell me, Miss Granger, do you believe that you and my son are a compatible match?"

Hermione lifted her head at his tone, her eyes tightening slightly.

"No. I don't," she informed him before deciding she had had quiet enough of Malfoys for one day. Without another word Hermione turned on her heels and marched right back across the rolling grounds of Hogwarts towards the Weasely. She was rather proud of herself when she didn't even jump as thunder boomed overhead and another deluge began.


	10. Chapter 10: Rolling Off Your Tongue

**A/N: Hello my darlings, sorry about the wait. There have been some posting issues with FF theat are preventing people with .docx files from uploading straight from that file into the Doc Manager. I was hoping the staff might pounce on it and fix it for me ASAP, but alas, they have not. Yet. Fingers are still crossed. Anyway, can I just mention how amazing all of you are? I've noticed a distinct number of your who have been reading across all my fics (the newer ones anyhow) and you've all been leaving me such wonderful reviews. They make me so happy. Now, more insight from our favourite boy. Much love! xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Little Do You Know**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Rolling Off Your Tongue**

* * *

She was bloody impossible. Draco was still annoyed with the little mudblood for the way she'd just walked off before the storm had begun again without so much as a backward glance. His father had looked affronted and then amused by the girl. His mother had seemed intrigued, though her lips had pinched together in disapproval of such poor manners.

Draco had thought seriously about running after her, but the storm interrupted him.

True to their word the Ministry allowed them all the afternoon to themselves with their families and with the rain bucketing down everyone had piled into the Great Hall and spent the entire afternoon there. The younger students had been shocked when classes let out and they found so many extra people in the Great Hall for dinner but they had dealt with it well enough. His mother and father had spent the remainder of the afternoon discussing the law with him and making polite conversation with the other families of Slytherin students before they had bid him good evening after dinner, intent on returning to the Manor.

Draco supposed he ought to be asleep. They'd all been given a time-table for the following day's bollocks regarding lessons on the stipulations of the law, in addition to jumping into classes that focused on how to function in a committed relationship like a marriage. Draco suspected the classes on child rearing would come later, once they'd all had a chance to get used to the idea and settle into it. When they weren't liable to make a run for the Continent.

"You lot still awake?" the voice of Millicent Bulstrode came from the doorway suddenly and Draco glanced towards the door to see Milly, Pansy, Daphne, Tracy and Rosie all strolling into the seventh year boy's dormitory.

"Bloody hell Milly," Goyle grumbled, "Your dulcet tones were not what I wanted to wake to after a hot dream."

"Ok gross," Tracy wrinkled her nose, "On that note, Blaise you budge up."

The girl strolled over and helped herself to Blaise's bed while Blaise snorted.

"Witch, I'm an engaged man," he protested when she lifted the covers and climbed in beside him, snuggling into his side like a bed bug.

"Oh, as if your new fiancé and mine aren't off somewhere shagging one another?" Tracy rolled her eyes, "That fiery little redhead can suck a big black dick for all I care about her feelings after what she did to my nose!"

"Don't worry, love," Blaise smiled wolfishly, "When I'm through with her, that fiery little redhead will beg for the privilege of sucking my big black dick!"

"Gross!" Daphne giggled as she climbed into bed beside Theo on his right side while Rosie climbed in on Theo's left and snuggled into her twin's shoulder without a word.

"Move it over, hot stuff," Pansy grinned at him, peeling back the covers on Draco's bed and squeezing herself in next to him.

"How come none of you ever want to snuggle up with me?" Milly grumbled as she lumbered over to Goyle's bed, lifted the covers and kicked her cousin until he budged over enough that she could fit on his large four-post bed.

"You get grabby," Rosie told her, "I hate grabby."

"Don't lie, darlin'," Milly smirked at Rosie, "Sometimes you like it when I'm grabby."

"I can't believe your shagged her, Rosanna," Theo hissed to his twin, shaking his head, "It was bad enough when I had to get shit about your sluttiness from the boys but now I've got to take it from Milly too?"

Rosie smirked wickedly at her brother.

"I was curious," she shrugged unrepentantly.

"Well now I feel used," Milly grunted with a laugh.

"Don't worry Milly," Goyle replied, "I think we've all been used by Rosie."

"Oi!" Theo protested, clapping his hands over his ears.

"I'm not that big a slag, you lot!" Rosie protested, "I haven't shagged Blaise or Draco."

"You tried, love," Blaise piped up, "You just gotta catch me when I haven't had quite so much to drink."

"Whore!" Theo accused his sister, "I can't even look at you. Out! Get out of my bed! Merlin only knows where you've been!"

Theo shoved at the girl until she hissed at him like an angry feline and climbed back out of his bed.

"Make room, you two!" she demanded, bounding across the room in her tiny little pink bed-shorts and leaping up on the bed with Goyle and Milly, "I want to be in the middle."

"See, now this I could get behind," Goyle smirked widely, shuffling over a little more to fit Rosie between himself and Milly.

"Slag!" Theo accused his sister again before burying his face under his pillow, his hand clawing around until he found Daphne's hand before dragging it across the tops of his bare shoulders, requesting she trace patterns on his skin.

Draco rolled his eyes and glanced at Pansy. He stilled when he found her watching him speculatively.

"So?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"What?" he asked, knowing what she wanted to know. What they all wanted to know.

"What did Lucius say to Granger that she stomped off right after meeting your folks?" Daphne rolled her eyes, drawing on Theo's back with her perfectly manicured fingernails.

"How do you know it wasn't my mother who said something to set the little swot off?" Draco smirked at them.

"Narcissa is a perfect lady at all times excepting when she feels you or Lucius are threatened. And I don't see Granger threatening you when she was letting you get away with manhandling her. I didn't see a single slap in your direction from the little bookworm all day."

"She clobbered him on the Quidditch pitch," Blaise informed them, "Should've seen that bookworm fly, Pans. It was a thing of beauty. Violent little thing flogged a bludger at Potter so hard she took him off his broom and broke three of his ribs!"

"Really?" Pansy asked, "What she'd do to you lot then?"

"Not a thing," Blaise grinned, "At least, not a thing except bopping Draco on the head for being smart with her. And then knocking him off his broom right as he caught the snitch and breaking his shoulder."

"What? Why would she do that at the last minute?" Daphne asked, "Moment of panic that her friends wouldn't forgive her for letting you win without trying to stop you?"

"Nah," Theo piped up, "Why don't you tell them what you did to her Draco?"

"What did you do?" Pansy asked, her voice lowering slightly at the serious tone Theo used.

Draco sighed and glanced up at his ceiling.

"She was getting touchy after Weaselbee tried to guilt-trip her not to play the second half for us. I might've, you know, used legilimency on her to find out what her problem was," Draco admitted.

"What had I told you about that, mate?" Goyle narrowed his eyes on Draco a little bit, "You go poking around in people's head and you're going to stumble on some shit you really don't like."

"Yeah well, she lost her shit at me, slapped me in the sheds and then broke my shoulder on the pitch, so I think we're even," Draco replied.

"You used it on her again when she dropped her tea-cup at the meeting today. What set her off, by the way? She never did answer Luna," Theo's muffled voice came from under his pillow.

"Luna?" Blaise smirked, "Oooh, already calling her by her first name, eh Theo? You always were a man for the oddball ones."

"OOOOH!" Pansy and the other girls chimed in, giggling when Theo's hand shot out from under the covers to flip them all the bird.

"We're talking about Draco and his bookworm, not me and my lunatic," Theo retorted, "What was she hyperventilating about?"

"It suddenly occurred to her that she's going to have to fuck me," Draco sighed.

"Yeah, I'd panic about that too," Milly piped up, grinning at him from across the room.

"You still didn't tell us what Lucius said to her?" Pansy reminded him, ever curious.

"Nothing really, just asked her if she thought me and her were compatible. All she said was, 'No. I don't'. And then she stomped off," Draco rolled her eyes, "Little swot."

"What about you, Pans?" Blaise asked, "Tell us how things went down in the land of Quidditch nuts like Oliver Wood."

"There's not much to tell, really. He thinks I gamble too much. The rest of the time I just sat on his lap and we all sat in silence while Potter and Weasley brooded over Weaselette and Granger being on the laps of you two. How'd you get Granger to sit still? How'd you know the hat was going to put you two together?"

"As soon as she started losing her noodle at the hat I figured it had to be about me. There was no one else in that room that she would be as upset about being paired with. Except maybe McClaggen, and he'd already been stuck with Chang."

"I pity that poor girl," Rosie spoke up, "McClaggen's got more tentacles than a Snarfalup plant."

"You've shagged him too?" Theo's head came out from under his pillow with a snarl.

"No. I couldn't do it after he tried to choke me with his tongue," Rosie shrugged her shoulders.

"You're such a slut!" Theo snapped at his sister, "How hard is it to keep your bloody legs shut?"

"Oh bite me, Theo," Rosie flipped him off unrepentantly, "It's not my fault you're a broody little brat who hates everyone and so doesn't deign to shag around more often. Not everyone is as antisocial as you!"

Draco closed his eyes as the siblings continued to spit venom at each other. They fought constantly like this and he was used to it. They would do anything for each other of course, but most of the time Theo couldn't stomach the idea of anyone laying a hand on his 'baby sister'. He sighed again. He'd had more than a week to get used to the idea that this law would force him into a marriage with someone not necessarily of his choosing. He'd had a couple of days to think about who would be best as his bloody wife and he'd had longer than that to settle on it being Granger.

If he was completely honest, the minute she'd started losing her noodle over the idea of being forced to marry him, of all people, Draco had felt like Christmas had come early. Sure, he didn't want to marry at all, but if he had to he'd rather marry someone he could torment for the rest of his days, if only to watch the way her eyes flashed red-hot fury at him every time he did so. It was entirely too much fun to provoke the little witch into her fiery fury.

"Are you going to be alright with her, Draco?" Pansy asked him in a whisper sometime later as the others fell to discussing the Quidditch match from earlier that day.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Draco questioned rather than answering.

The truth was that he didn't know if he'd be alright with Granger. Sure she wasn't exactly dangerous in the sense his father or his Aunt were. But she was still a brilliant and powerful witch. She could mess him up if she really got stroppy with him.

"Oh, I don't know," Pansy snorted, "Maybe because she's one of the few witches I've ever seen stand up to your charm and remain impervious? Maybe because she's got more morals in her little finger than the rest of us have combined? She's not just going to be some witch who will smile politely on your arm amid pureblood society. She won't just tolerate your mother's meddling or your father's barely masked rudeness. She's not like us, Draco. Not just in the sense that she's a muggle-born, either. She… Granger's a bloody saint in the making. She gets stroppy about conceived mistreatment of house-elves. She won't tolerate it when you get in a strop."

"I don't strop," Draco rolled his eyes, glancing across the pillows at his ex-girlfriend.

"You do," she assured him, "You get in a snit about something and you're a force to be reckoned with Draco. You make that face where your expression is blank but your eyes are screaming bloody murder. And then you get creative. If pushed you snap and say horrible things. You do terrible things designed to embarrass and humiliate whomever you're upset with."

Draco knew that was true. When he got angry about something he could be a downright bastard.

"So?" Draco asked.

"So Granger's not one of us, Draco," Pansy waved her hand indicatively to the rest of their friends in the dormitory who had begun betting on how long it would take Blaise to convince the Weaselette to snog him, "She won't just weather your bad mood and try to appease you. She'll fire back and I've seen her in action. She's even better than you are at inventing creative and humiliating punishments that destroy those who have crossed the line with her. Do you remember what she did to Marietta Edgecombe when that girl ratted on them for their duelling club in fifth year?"

Draco frowned slightly as he recalled the horrible acne-like rash that had spread across the girl's face in the word 'SNEAK' after Edgecombe had reported her to Umbridge.

"What about what she did to Umbridge, Draco? That woman pushed Granger too far and the bitch had her carted off to be raped repeatedly by centaurs in the woods. She spent the better part of a year in St. Mungo's twitching at the strangest noises and screaming at the sound of hooves. That… that's merciless, Draco. Don't get me wrong, Umbridge was a bad-egg, but no one deserves the fate Granger plotted for her. Had she been less moral, Granger would've been a true force to be reckoned with. Imagine if instead of being a Gryffindor and best mates with Potter, she'd turned to the Dark side. You know as well as I do that Potter only lived long enough to defeat the Dark Lord because of Granger."

"What are you getting at, Pans?" Draco asked, "You don't think I can handle her?"

"I'm just saying that you're going to have to watch your step. Don't ever lose your temper and snap at her the way you used to do to me. She won't just grit her teeth and bear it before grovelling to you later the way I did. She'll spit venom at you in return and she'll turn any of your cruelty back on you ten-fold," Pansy warned him.

"You're worried about me being bested by Granger?" Draco asked, mildly offended by the insinuation.

"I'm not worried she'll best you, Draco. I know how cruel and heartless you can be. No, I'm worried that you'll say something horrid when you're in a bad mood and it will escalate from there. She'll retaliate with something that rubs you the wrong way. Then you'll do something to get back at her over your wounded pride. And she'll fight you every single time. That mouldy old hat might've deemed you two to be compatible, but trust me Draco, if there was ever a couple with the power to destroy one another completely, it's you and Granger."

"You're worried I'll hurt her? That she'll hurt me?" Draco frowned further.

"I _know_ you two will hurt each other," Pansy shook her head slightly, "I'm worried that when she loses her temper with you, she won't just take it out on you. It will spill over onto the rest of us like boiled water from a broken teapot. And the things that Granger is capable of? Burn Salve won't be enough to put us all back to rights."

Draco raised his eyebrows at her.

"What are you suggesting then? That I just cater to her every barmy whim and take her bollocks whenever she gets in a snit whilst concealing my own. You know that's not how I am," Draco warned her.

"I'm not saying that at all. I just want you to watch your step with her for a while. She's going to be difficult about this law. You heard her today when she realised she was going to be paired with you. The two of you have a lot of bad blood between you and she's not likely to just forget it. I think that if you want even the slightest chance of not being murdered by your future-wife, you're going to have to be decent to her until she's had time to come to terms with all of this. She'll walk away from our world if you push her hard enough. She's muggle-born. She wasn't raised in the magical world. She might not like to have to live without it, but she could. She could have her muggle family back, go to some muggle university and go on to conquer the muggle world without batting an eye. Especially if they removed her memories of the magical world."

Draco knew it was true. If ever there was a witch – a woman – who not only could but would survive being stripped of their magic and their memories, it was Granger. She didn't need any of them. She might want Potter and the Weasley family as her friends and loved ones. She might adore magic and absorb every fact about their world like a sponge, but she could do without it. Draco, on the other hand, could never do so. His entire world was rooted in the magical one. His family, his heritage, everything he knew were all a part of the magical world. Granger could stomp off into the muggle world where she knew how to live without magic and be fine. She knew how to drive a muggle car. She knew how to work the appliances muggles had invented to get by without magic. She knew their customs and didn't exclaim in shock at the sight of a toaster or jump a foot at the sound of a ringing felly-tone or whatever they were called.

"She's my betrothed, Pansy," Draco told the dark-haired girl quietly, meeting her gaze and watching Pansy's eyes widen slightly, "You know what that means to us."

"You're going to…?" she trailed off, seeming surprised, "Even though she's a bossy little know-it-all mudblood?"

Draco nodded his head seriously at her and Pansy's breath left her in a whoosh of shock.

"Oh," Pansy said quietly, biting her bottom lip, "I… maybe I should go then?"

"Why?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Because if you're going to take this mess that seriously, Draco, then you shouldn't have any witch who isn't your betrothed lying in your bed with you. Especially not one who used to be your girlfriend," Pansy told him.

In some ways, Pansy was right. He knew that. Were those Gryffindor gits to stumble down the stairs and into his dormitory to spot all of them, they'd be furious at the sight of all the seventh year Slytherins snuggled in bed with one another. It wasn't sexual at all. Except for maybe where Rosie was concerned. It was entirely about friendship, but would the Gryffindors see it that way? Were Granger to appear in the doorway and spot him in bed with Pansy, she would most likely hex the pair of them and then never speak to him again. Which Draco didn't want. Not that he wanted to cater to her psychosis either.

That being said, if he were to climb up to Gryffindor Tower and find her in bed with Weaselbee right now, Draco knew he would be beyond furious. None of them wanted to be engaged to their current spouses in the sense that were it not for the law, they'd be single or with different people, but that didn't mean he didn't already think of the little swot as being his.

"There'll be time enough to worry about bollocks like that tomorrow," Draco said finally, "Blaise was right. Unlike us, Gryffindors like them are more about passion and emotion and doing what they want. I don't doubt Granger and Weaselbee, hell, maybe even Potter, have all shared a bed with a friend before. It's not like I'm going to shag you."

Pansy bit her lip, looking worried, but then she nodded slowly, relaxing against the pillows again. She wouldn't stay. Draco knew it as well as she did. Pansy never stayed in his bed anymore. She hadn't since Draco had stopped dating her at the end of fifth year. She might crawl in and cuddle awhile, when he allowed it, but she never slept next to him anymore. Draco preferred it that way. He liked having his bed to himself. He was selfish with the covers and he hated having someone else in there, wriggling and squirming. Drove him barmy.

Turning his attention back to the conversation going on around them among the rest of their friends, Draco listened to them placing wagers on who could snog their new spouse first. On what the parenting and marriage classes might involve. On whether or not Lavender Brown would ever stop sobbing over being paired with Goyle.

"Ten sickles says Granger loses her temper and punches Draco in the face again," Goyle piped up from across the room to get the topic off himself and Lavender. Draco suspected the git was a bit sensitive about how much she'd sobbed over being paired with Goyle.

"Again?" Blaise asked, raising his eyebrows and looking intrigued.

"She punched me in third year," Draco admitted with a shrug, his cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink, "Caught me, Crabbe and Goyle being gits when Father tried to have that bloody chicken of Hagrid's killed for savaging me. We were trying to watch the execution and she, Potter and Weaselbee turned up."

"You did ask her if she'd come to see the show," Goyle reminded him, "She spent months trying to pull together a case for Hagrid and that hippogriff at the trail. I'd have probably punched you too, if I was her."

"Thanks mate," Draco rolled his eyes at his friend.

"She punched you?" Pansy asked, intrigued.

"She broke my nose," Draco admitted, smirking at her.

"And she broke your shoulder today. You better watch yourself with her, Draco," Blaise told him, "Imagine what else she might break of yours when she gets her knickers in a twist."

Draco winced at his crass suggestion of the witch snapping Draco's manhood. The little bitch would probably try it too. His friends were right. He was going to have to watch his step with Granger.


	11. Chapter 11: More Power, More Passion

**A/N: Hello! Sorry about the delay on a new chapter. I thought I had more pre-written on this than I actually had and I got all turned around on it. There's still a few chapters pre-written, but I had the numbers all mixed up. LOL. Anyway, I hope you like this new chapter. It's a long juicy one that gives more info about the Marriage Law, Tivorlo's Clause and lays some foundation for what's to come in their budding relationships. Thanks for all the love and review you've been giving me. Much love! xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Little Do You Know**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 11: More Power, More Passion**

* * *

Hermione groaned when Harry and Ron plonked themselves down on either side of her at the Gryffindor table. She'd been up most of the night researching ways to get around this bloody law. She refused to take Malfoy's word for it that there were no loopholes that could be exploited. Not when she was staring down the barrel of becoming Mrs Hermione Malfoy for the rest of her days.

Not when she was expected to shag the git and have his kids. Four of them, at least. She couldn't bear the idea of doing that. It wasn't just that he was Draco Malfoy ex-Death Eater and git extraordinaire. It was the principle. This law violated at least ten basic human rights that ought to have been put in place and maintained.

"Tell me you're not still researching like mad?" Ron asked in a grunt as he began piling his plate with breakfast foods while Hermione elbowed both boys to get them out of her space so she could better read while she nibbled at her toast.

"Of course I'm researching," Hermione replied, "How else will I find enough information to get us all out of this mess?"

"You're wasting your time," Ron told her, "Look, Hermione I'm not saying I want to have to go ahead with this and marry Hannah. I'm not saying that I want to see you forced to marry Malfoy. But I think you missed part of the conversation when McGonagall was telling us about all of this."

"And what might that have been, Ronald?" Hermione asked him tightly, narrowing her eyes on her ex-boyfriend.

They had agreed last night that they're relationship was, indeed, over. That they would be marrying other people if she couldn't find a way around this law. Ron had been in a right snit about it. He seemed to have taken the mess at the Quidditch game personally and couldn't get over the idea that Hermione would play the game fairly for whichever team she was on at the time. He also refused to let it go that in spite of Hermione's tantrum over learning she'd been paired with Malfoy, she hadn't put up a fight or made much of a fuss about Ron being paired with Hannah. He couldn't fathom that she hadn't been heartbroken and raging like Ginny had about Harry and Tracy.

He also seemed to have his knickers in a twist about Malfoy carting Hermione around on his shoulders for the game and about her being stuck sitting in Malfoy's lap when he'd carried her off like some barbarian after stunning her yesterday. Last night it had been clear that Ron believed it was somehow Hermione's fault they hadn't been paired as being compatible.

"If we don't all go along with this," Ron told her, "Tivorllo's Clause will kick in. As bloody bonkers as this mess is, it's a sight better than thirteen year old's being forced to shag old people and knock them up. I don't know if you know this, but Tivorllo's Clause makes all forms of contraception ineffective and does a bunch of other wretched things to make sure that the wizarding world's population grows rapidly and effectively. It doesn't discriminate based on age or blood or sexual preference or anything else. If that kicks in, you could be paired with worse than the likes of Malfoy. There wouldn't be any of this bollocks about compatible matches and all that. If that thing kicks in, it makes people who would never be attracted to one another want to shag, based on their magical cores being most likely to conceive powerful magical offspring. Do you get that? If we don't do this things will be even worse. Right now we're being forced to marry someone we're apparently compatible with and have a bunch of kids with them. If that things takes effect and it was found that you and… I don't know, Harry, were likely to have powerful kids, you'd want shag him. You would shag him. You'd have his kid. And as soon as you had, you'd be off after some other bloke who the Clause deemed you would make a magical kid with."

Hermione frowned at him in confusion.

"What are you talking about Ron? Tivorllo's Clause doesn't just make everyone incredibly frisky so they go about shagging whomever might be viable for magical conception," Hermione said.

"Yes it does," Ron argued, "They've implemented this Marriage Law to ensure that when we're all expected to start popping out kids, it will each be with only one person and that all four kids we're expected to have will be full-siblings. If Tivorllo's Clause activates the Old Magic, that kind of stuff won't matter. It was written in a time when people married their first cousins or shagged their siblings to keep bloodlines pure. If that thing kicks in, Hermione, it wouldn't just be you having to shag Malfoy. The Old Magic could make me and Ginny shag if it wanted. We wouldn't be able to stop it or resist, no matter how repulsive the notion is."

"What?" Hermione breathed, paling in absolute horror.

"He's telling the truth, Hermione," Ginny told her quietly, "Old Magic is much more powerful and much less moral than you might imagine. This law is horrid and I'm furious about the idea of being ripped away from Harry. But if that magic is activated you and I would become nothing more than brood mares. We would be slaves to sexual whim – propelled by the Old Magic – and all of these fine young men would be stud stallions and nothing more. Old Magic doesn't care about romance, hatred, incest or otherwise disgusting ideas. It will force us all to shag around and have as many kids as possible."

"You're saying if that thing kicked in we'd be… I don't know, nothing but baby-makers? Like robots? Programmed to do whatever was necessary to save the species?" Hermione asked in utter horror.

"What's a robot?" Ginny asked.

"The Old Magic reverts us back into the animals we began as, Granger," an increasingly familiar voice drawled from behind her and Hermione glanced over her shoulder sharply to spot Draco Malfoy standing there looking entirely too handsome in his casual robes with his sleep mussed fringe still hanging in his eyes. The rest of his friends were with him too, looking equally sleep-mussed and yet somehow alluring.

"Meaning?" she asked, needing clarification on what he was saying.

She squeaked in surprise when he came up right behind her at the table, his hands pressing against her back and scooting her forwards on the bench until she almost slipped off the front of it. He sat directly behind her, his legs bracketing hers and one arm slipping around her waist, making her squawk in protest.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, squirming and trying to get away from him.

Harry was temporarily distracted by the fact that Tracy Davis had also begun squeezing herself onto the bench between where Draco had forced his leg around Hermione and where Harry was sitting. Hermione watched the way the witch draped one of her legs over Harry's thigh before she plucked a piece of Harry's toast off the plate and began to eat it.

"Stop getting your knickers in a twist, Granger," Malfoy complained, already reaching around her to close the book she'd been pouring through and grab himself some breakfast as well. Ron was practically snarling with fury on her far side. Hermione looked across the table at Ginny, expecting to see the girl bristling with rage over what Tracy was doing so close to Harry, only to find Blaise had done to her what Malfoy had done to Hermione. Shoved her as far forwards on the bench as possible and straddled her from behind, his entire body enveloping hers.

Blaise also had the audacity to hang his chin over Ginny's shoulder and lean into her, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck affectionately. Lavender was suffering much the same treatment from Goyle, only she appeared to have been lifted onto Goyle's lap and he was now working around her to begin eating some breakfast right off her plate as though she weren't squealing in outrage on his lap. Katie was quivering with fury when Hermione noticed Marcus doing the same thing to her and Oliver was distracted by Pansy climbing into his lap as she'd done the day before. Even Neville had been accosted by Daphne and looked utterly bewildered, his cheeks scarlet.

A girl who Hermione took to be Rosanna Nott – Theo's twin – was snuggling up to Seamus. Seamus looked rather alarmed by that fact, his eyebrow – he'd blown one off yesterday in an attempt to charm the pumpkin juice in the common room into butterbeer, so he currently only had the one – climbing towards his hairline and his cheeks turning pink. Theo was clearly choosing to pretend his sister didn't exist that morning because he didn't react when Rosanna leaned in and pecked Seamus's cheek in greeting.

Of course, it could be that Theo had become distracted by Luna – who always sat with them at Gryffindor table these days. The girl was dressed in a sunshine yellow princess dress and was wearing a crown of fanged geraniums in her hair. Something that became evident when Theo leaned too close to her as he sat down and nearly got himself bitten by one of the overzealous little flowers.

"They're not in a twist!" Hermione snapped at Malfoy, annoyed about his comment, "What the hell is wrong with all of you? You can't just wander over here and manhandle us! Get off me!"

Malfoy ignored her protests, catching her wrist when her hand dove for her wand. Hermione twisted it violently in his grip as he lifted the appendage away from her pocket, sliding his hand over the flesh before entwining his fingers with hers upon the table. Everyone else but Ron was similarly distracted. George and Angelina both looked utterly baffled. Ron was mottled red with fury, his ears crimson with rage.

"Now, as I was saying," Malfoy went on, his voice drawling by her ear as he wrapped himself around her back as though it was his right to crowd her and touch her, "Old Magic reverts us all back to being animals. It was implemented to prevent the extinction of the magical race within Britain. If it is activated we literally revert to animalistic breeding practices. Meaning that we would all be driven by an animalistic drive to mate. You, for example, would no longer be concerned about whom you would be shagging, only about being impregnated and thus continuing the species. I believe, if it came to it, us males would even fight one another for the right to a female. Especially given the length of time pregnancy takes. Once everyone was knocked up things would calm a bit. If the population fell particularly low – lower than say, five hundred witches and wizards left, we might even revert to the old ways of ensuring that it was our offspring being reared by witches. Think lion prides who are taken over by a new pride male. Existing pregnancies would be forfeit through vicious maulings that caused miscarriage, causing the females to be driven to mate again with the new male and bear his young."

"Are you… joking?" Hermione asked, twisting her head to glare into his pointed face over her shoulder.

"No," he answered seriously, "McGonagall and the Ministry didn't want to scare us all into a panic, I imagine, but if this Marriage Law doesn't work – and if the incentives the Ministry means to offer to everyone else for having kids next week doesn't take, the Clause will activate the Old Magic. You _really_ do not want to be around when that happens, Granger. You would shag every bloke at this table right now and potentially birth the children of all of them."

"But that would half, even quarter the life expectancy of every witch," Hermione protested, frowning in absolute horror now.

"It would," Malfoy agreed with her, "But the Old Magic doesn't care about your quality of life. It cares about replenishing the population. Yes, you would most likely drop in age expectancy from a hundred years to perhaps fifty or forty years. But in that time you could potentially have twenty or thirty kids – more if there was multiple conceptions such a twins. Weaselette would be in for it. She carries the genetic propensity for hyper-ovulation. Technically all you Weasley's do and you lot would pass it on to any daughters you sired."

"And this would affect kids as young as thirteen?" Hermione asked frowning, wondering how Malfoy knew so much and shocked at the fact that he'd just used the word 'ovulation' without blushing, though almost everyone else in hearing range had done so.

"Younger, Granger," Malfoy told her, "McGonagall picked a number to scare us into cooperating. If the Old Magic is activated, anyone who has reached sexual maturity would be effected. Meaning that if one of those bratty little first years has hit puberty early – if she's at the age where she's on the rag every month - she'd be compelled to begin shagging around and having kids. And in males, age isn't much of a factor towards knocking someone up."

"I'm going to be sick," George announced, looking horrified.

"That's not the worst of it Weasley, let's say that kid there," Malfoy pointed at a Gryffindor first year further down the table who was still wearing her hair in twin-plaits on either side of her face, "Has started ovulating. This clause kicks in and she'll be forced to shag around. And let's say she's in detention with Slughorn when it activates."

"Malfoy, stop!" Ron said and when Hermione tore her eyes off Malfoy to glance at him she noticed that Ron looked a bit green around the gills.

"That wrinkly, wobbly old codger would stick his wilted old…." Malfoy began but Hermione twisted back to him and clapped her hand over his mouth, preventing him from saying anymore when Ron gagged and began to dry-heave.

"Stop," she commanded of the blonde wizard.

"Just telling it how it is, Granger," Malfoy told her, smirking when she jerked her hand away once more after he licked her palm.

"Well don't talk about it anymore or we're all going to be sick," Hermione scolded him.

"Can we change the subject to just what in the bloody hell you all think you're doing sitting at Gryffindor table? And why you're all in our pockets?" Ginny demanded, elbowing Blaise and squirming in his lap like an aggravated kitten.

"You're going to marry him, Weaselette," Malfoy answered, pointing at Blaise with Hermione's fork – which he'd taken up and was using to eat pancakes around Hermione, "You need to get used to the idea of sharing your meals and your space with your husband."

"Now you've done it," Ron managed before he grabbed up his empty cereal bowl and vomited up his half-digested breakfast.

"I echo your sentiments, Ron," Ginny declared, waving her wand to vanish the mess her brother had made.

"Now love, there's no need to play hard to get," Blaise told her, "We're already engaged."

Ron vomited again.

"Really Weasley, that's just disgusting!" Pansy complained, "Must you do so at the breakfast table?"

"No one said you had to eat with us," Ron retorted, wiping his mouth after washing it out with pumpkin juice, "If you don't like the way we do things here then shove off!"

"Having fun there?" Harry asked of Tracy from Hermione's other side while Pansy and Ron began to bicker and Oliver looked mildly amused.

"I am, actually," Tracy announced and Hermione glanced at them to see that Harry had returned to trying to eat his bacon and Tracy was using her fingers to snatch the food off his fork and pop it into her mouth.

The sight was mildly unnerving. Not because Hermione had anything against couples being cutesy and lovey-dovey in public like that. No, it was unnerving because they barely knew each other and that made it kind of creepy. Having Malfoy's larger and incredibly warm male body encased around her while she perched on the front of her chair was also rather awkward.

"Do you have to sit like that?" she asked when his arm tightened slightly around her middle and he shuffled a bit on the bench as he reached for the maple syrup. It was clear that he wasn't at all impeded by having her in his lap and encroaching on his space. Or rather, it was obvious he didn't care that he was crowding her and shuffling her about. In fact, from the way he smirked the tiniest bit and the way his hand on her middle caressed her skin slowly, Hermione suspected he was rather enjoying himself.

"I do," Malfoy replied, "Hand me those strawberries, would you please?"

"This is a nightmare," Lavender announced suddenly, looking hopeful that it could be the truth, "It must be some weird nightmare I'm having. I'm going to wake up any minute now and this entire marriage law and everything will all have been some crazy dream. I'm sure I must still be on the Hogwarts Express heading for the school."

Hermione glanced at her, appreciating the sentiment but doubting it was the case.

"What kind of imagination do you have that you think that?" Goyle asked her seriously when he'd finished chewing a bite of sausage.

Hermione knew she wasn't the only one surprised by his ability to pause in eating in order to make conversation.

"I'm hoping for the really wonky kind," Lavender sighed, wilting slightly in his lap as though accepting her fate that she was indeed going to be forced to marry the big git.

"Maybe next time," Goyle offered quietly and Hermione watched the way Lavender looked alarmed and slightly surprised when Goyle gave her shoulder a meaty-handed pat of comfort. It looked a little heavy-handed to be all that comforting – in fact it looked slightly painful, but Lavender didn't complain. Though she did wince slightly.

"Right, well this is the weirdest breakfast I've ever had," Ron announced, having ceased his argument with Pansy and gotten his queasiness back under control, "But back to the conversation at hand, Hermione. I really think you should stop searching for a way around the law. The side-effects if we don't all go through with this are positively abysmal and I won't have it. Therefore, I'll be confiscating this."

He picked up her book and moved it out of Hermione's reach. Hermione tried to reach for it anyway, leaning across Malfoy and nearly wearing the breakfast he was feeding himself over her shoulder.

"Oi, knock it off, Granger," he complained.

"If you didn't insist on touching me inappropriately, you wouldn't have to deal with the awkwardness of me being a person and not a doll to be manipulated at your will, Malfoy. Deal with it," Hermione retorted, still trying to snatch her book back from Ron.

"Weren't you listening to the part where trying to get out of this will result in all of us turning into breeding sows?" Daphne demanded, taking the book from Ron and moving it even further down the table and out of Hermione's grip.

"I need to read it for myself. A lot of what you all just told me sounds like exaggerated hype about the law. Actually it sounds like the type of tripe Rita Skeeter would concoct. That book pertains to Tivorllo's law and I want to read it for myself," Hermione protested, standing between Malfoy's spread knees and leaning towards the book again.

"Woman if you don't get your arse back in my lap and out of my face I won't be held responsible for what I do to you," Malfoy warned her before tugging her back down onto the seat between his legs.

Hermione squawked in protest.

"Is she always this barmy about books?" Tracy asked Harry.

"Yes," everyone at the Gryffindor table who heard the question answered and Malfoy began to chuckle at their unanimous answer.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips in frustration while she closed her eyes and counted to ten to keep from losing her temper. She didn't want to lose her temper. It never ended well. When she had counted to twenty and was still furious, Hermione opened her eyes again and watched Ginny pale considerably at her expression.

"Ronald?" Hermione asked sharply, holding out one hand for what she wanted before she waited.

"Shoot! Ron, give it to her," Ginny said quickly as Hermione's hair began to crackle with blue sparks of fury.

"She'll just keep searching for a way out," Ron protested thickly without looking at Hermione.

"Look at her Ron," Ginny insisted.

Harry looked over from the far side of Tracy and cursed.

"Crap! Ron, the book. Give it back to her. Now!" Harry demanded.

"Why…?" Ron glanced over at her, "Oh shit!"

Ron lunged down the table for the book, snatching it up and handing it back to her. Hermione didn't bother to thank him before she opened the cover quickly.

"What just happened?" Blaise asked as the magic continued to crackle in Hermione's hair while she read.

"Shut it Zabini," Ginny whispered urgently, "Not another word or you'll be toast!"

Hermione continued to read the text as though all of her friends hadn't fallen silent around her in response to the fact that she'd officially had enough for the morning. If they continued distracting her from her book Hermione would unleash her temper and they had all been on the receiving end of that before. All the Gryffindors had, anyway.

"Is her hair… crackling?" Pansy asked from Oliver's lap, seeming intrigued.

Hermione felt Tracy reach for one of her curls by her ear that was indeed still crackling and continuing to do so with increasing frequency. Before she could touch it, Malfoy's hand shot up and caught the appendage, pushing it away quickly. He seemed to have recognised from her tense posture that she was liable to snap and also seemed to realise that being so close to her when that happened might not be very safe for him, no matter who she directed her fury at.

"Quiet Parkinson, before she takes your head off," Oliver warned the witch quickly.

"Holy shit," Goyle muttered, looking surprised when Lavender – who until then had been squirming and looking like she wanted to keep as much of herself from touching him as she could – suddenly began leaning back, pressing against his strapping chest as though she might travel right through him like a ghost. All in her intent to escape Hermione's bad mood.

"You're all… afraid of her?" Pansy asked again.

Hermione drummed her nails on the book cover and lifted her annoyed gaze to glare across the table at Parkinson in warning.

"Oh, this is going to be good," Pansy smirked widely at the warning glare rather than recoiling in fear.

"How much are we betting?" Blaise wanted to know, glancing down the table at his Slytherin friends.

"I've got ten sickles that says their first fight is before the end of the day," Marcus smirked widely.

"Twenty sickles that Draco wins it," Pansy shook his hand.

"I'll have twenty sickles that Granger snaps first," Blaise threw in to their betting pot and Hermione drummed her fingers on the book again, shifting her glare towards Ginny though the redhead hadn't spoken.

"Right, let me up, Zabini," Ginny demanded, getting to her feet and trying to clamber free of his enveloping hold, "You want to chatter yourself into madness, that's not a ship I'm sinking with."

"I think I left my… uh… socks, I forgot my socks… I'm going to… go and get them," Ron stammered out, blanching when his go-to excuse about forgetting a book they needed for class or forgetting his homework failed. As soon as he'd said so, he got quickly to his feet and hurried away.

"Erm…" Harry said quietly, "You know I think I might've forgotten my socks too. Excuse me, Tracy."

He got quickly to his feet and made a mad dash for it.

"Where do you think you're going, love?" Blaise was saying to Ginny, restraining her and refusing to let her leave him or the table.

Hermione took a slow, deep breath in, feeling the way everyone around her tensed. Oliver ducked behind Pansy's back to avoid being a target, expecting Hermione to explode at them. Now that she had her book back, she was in fact calming back down, though they were all beginning to get on her nerves. Especially Malfoy. He was in her elbow room. Hermione loathed not having elbow room. He was also still sipping his morning cup of tea as though she weren't vibrating with anger between his knees.

It was something silly to lose her temper about, really. They all made valid points about why continuing to research the topic was a wasted effort when the alternative was even worse. If Malfoy had been telling the truth that the Clause would activate the Old Magic in such a horrid way then it was, indeed, pointless. But Hermione wasn't just about to believe it and stop searching. Not without proof. Not when she'd heard it from the likes of Draco Malfoy.

Besides, hadn't he just said something about the Ministry offering people money to reproduce? If that was the case and she didn't have to be legally married until the end of the year, then enough people might be willing to have kids to offset the impending doom and thus she could be saved.

"Let me go, Zabini! Quickly!" Ginny was whispering desperately, pulling at him and trying to pry him off her with the intention of escaping, not wanting to be shouted at so early in the morning by Hermione and certainly not willing to risk a hex.

"Did you say that the Ministry will be offering people rewards to have kids?" Hermione asked, nudging Malfoy's arm so that he would know she was talking to him.

"I did," Malfoy answered, a wickedly amused tone in his voice, "As of next week, in fact. People will be offered a thousand Galleons in reward for having a kid. They mean to announce it to the general public next week once they iron the kinks out so they don't get swindled."

"He's bonkers!" Lavender whispered to Goyle, forgetting whom it was she was reclining upon in her concern, "She's going to lose it at him."

"Three sickles?" Pansy offered the girl, always up for a wager on literally everything.

"You know this how?" Hermione demanded without taking her eyes off her book.

"Father's on the board in charge of Ministry accounts and has a say in the decisions they make with their money, given that much of it is contributed by Malfoy International," Malfoy replied evenly, still sipping his tea. Hermione didn't dare to look at him. She suspected from his tone that he was enjoying the effect her annoyance had had on her friends and that he would rather like to see what they were all so scared of.

As though she hadn't lost her temper with him yesterday and broken his shoulder during the Quidditch match. As though she hadn't screamed and cursed about having to marry him. The sight of his smug, pointed face would likely set her off and so Hermione kept her eyes on the book she was reading, skipping ahead through the pages after consulting the index on the bits pertaining to Tivorllo's Clause.

"And they stand to give people a thousand Galleons a piece for every couple that has a child? Do they mean to put a time limit on it or insinuate this as common law?" Hermione quizzed him, finding that the topic was helping to calm her down.

"Common law. A thousand Galleons per child at the time of birth, to be deposited into the account of the couple in question. If it is successful in raising the population during the coming year it will be installed as common law, an incentive to convince folks to have three or four kids rather than one or two," Malfoy replied still sipping his tea over her shoulder. Hermione was pleased when she noted that he did so without slurping. That might've made her pour it over his head.

"Muggle governments in some parts of the world do that," Hermione nodded thoughtfully, "In most places it is with the equivalent of a few thousand pound."

"Where do you think they got the idea?" Malfoy drawled into her ear and Hermione stiffened slightly at his tone.

"Imagine what other clever ideas the wizarding world might implement now that they've pulled their ignorant heads out of their pompous arses and begun to see that not everything muggles do is backward?" Hermione retorted coldly.

Ginny grinned at her from across the table.

"Oh, that reminds me," Luna piped up suddenly, "Hermione I've been meaning to ask you. Is it true that muggles detain animals and keep them locked in small cages? That they charge people to come and gawk at them?"

Hermione looked over at Luna in surprise over her question.

"Do you mean like they do at a zoo?" she asked the girl.

"I don't know, Hermione. Do I mean a 'zoo'?" Luna asked, wrinkling her brow at Hermione in genuine confusion.

"I think you do. And the answer is yes," Hermione told her, "Many species of animal within the muggle world are held in captivity and people pay to go and look at them."

"How barbaric," Pansy wrinkled her nose.

"How do we free them?" Luna wanted to know.

"You don't free them, Luna," Hermione told her, "They live in their enclosures at the zoo and muggle people called zookeepers and veterinarians take care of them. That's why they charge people to be able to look at them – so they can cover the costs of keeping them."

"But Hermione, they should be free," Luna protested, "What if the animals want to be free?"

Hermione sighed heavily as she frowned at the curious blonde Ravenclaw. She knew that Luna was particularly fond of all magical creatures and had recently developed an interest in the exotic non-magical ones too. Relaxing slightly in her seat as she prepared to explain, Hermione decided not to overthink the fact that relaxing brought her into contact with Malfoy's chest.

"Unfortunately, Luna, most of them can't be set free. Most have been bred in captivity and so don't know how to survive in their natural habitats anymore. Their food is brought to them by humans. Their enclosures are maintained by humans. Many of the predators lose the ability to hunt for themselves and to feed themselves. Those that could fend for themselves by existing on vegetation face another threat. Many of the creatures now kept and bred in zoos are kept that way because the expansion of muggle civilisations have encroached so heavily on the natural habitat of the animals that leaving them in the little remaining areas would only result in their death," Hermione told the girl sadly.

"But… why couldn't they survive? Why don't muggles do what we do and ensure that parts of the world where important creatures exist are preserved?" Luna protested looking confused.

"They do, Luna," Hermione told the girl, "They try to, anyway. What it comes down to is greed. The muggle government might very well set aside preserves where big game animals can continue to live in their natural environment and it works for a time. But then a big oil company with billions comes along and pressures the government into selling off just a little bit of the preserve for the purpose of growing the economy. And then that little bit gets a bit bigger. And a bit bigger. Or a town needs to be built to sustain the people working on the land that was once a preserve. The animals are driven into smaller and smaller areas to survive. Less space means less animals can be supported by that habitat. Species die out, the food chain gets smaller and other animals and the ecosystem are affected. Some try to venture out in search of more space but that brings them into contact with people."

"What happens when they come into contact with people?" Theo asked, frowning. Hermione glanced around and realised all the purebloods were listening in to her explanation and looking alarmed.

"What always happens when animals come into contact with people, Theo," Hermione said sadly, "If they're lucky, they are tranquilised and moved either to a zoo or to another preserve that can take them. If they're unlucky they're deemed a threat to human life and are killed off, either by accident or on purpose."

"But then, where do they go?" Luna asked, "If these zoos can fit them but they can't be happy there, then what happens?"

"Several species of animal within the muggle world now only exist in captivity, Luna. Meaning that they are only still found in zoos. They lose their instincts as a result of being kept as little better than pets. Most of them live shorter lives due to their limited space and unvaried diet. Muggles push them to breed, to attempt to replenish the species. But sometimes only the ones who work in zoos or are conscientious of the environment. Most muggles don't really care. If they can see it in a zoo or on their telly, they assume there are simply plenty more out in the world," Hermione told her.

"But… how can that be?" Luna asked her, stricken.

"They don't care, Luna. The muggle world isn't like ours in that regard. In our world we have magic but we don't have television, or a number of other things that muggles immerse themselves in that distract them from important things like animals rights and ensuring the species are catered to. It happens in the magical world too. The Centaur herds in the Forbidden Forest are constantly being pushed into smaller and smaller sections of land that the herd can claim because the Ministry keeps trying to claim more of it for magical research efforts. Some of our creatures are protected – the unicorns, the dragons – but the rest, those deemed to be less exciting or more dangerous in whatever way are constantly being persecuted by the sprawl of human arrogance."

Everyone stared at Hermione when she told them that.

"Don't you get all up in arms about House Elves all the time?" Malfoy asked, "Why are you just shrugging about the mistreatment of other creatures?"

Hermione glanced over her shoulder to look at him.

"There's not a lot I can do about it, unfortunately," Hermione told him honestly, "The only real way for the creatures of any species to be saved is for the human race to die out. Or for the human race to decide whichever species of animal it is that is endangered actually makes good food. As a global economy the human race spends billions and billions of pounds every year to maintain land for livestock. We force other species off that land so it can be used to rear livestock. If we all suddenly decided that eating elephants was a viable food source option, we would begin breeding them, setting aside thousands of hectares of land to rear them."

"So it's hopeless?" Pansy asked, "All these species are just forced out of existence?"

"It's not hopeless," Hermione replied, "It's just entirely too big a task to take on as individuals. The fact of the matter is that as a whole, people don't care."

"I care," Luna answered.

"Yes, and so do I," Hermione answered, "But ours are two small voices in the face of belligerence the world over. It's like the thing with the centaurs. It's happening right now. They need our help now. But do we care? You do. I do. But so few in the face of the many uninformed souls of the world, even our considerably smaller magical world, does nothing to help them."

"You want to help centaurs?" Malfoy asked her quietly.

"I want to help all creatures that are having a hard time helping themselves, Malfoy," Hermione answered, "In the instance of the magical creatures in our world there is little I can do for them until I've passed my NEWTs, gotten myself a job in the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures office at the Ministry and begun to overturn laws and make sure the wizarding world as a whole is aware of the plights each species is facing."

"What about the muggle animals? The ones they keep in the zoos and put on display?" he asked.

Hermione bit her lip as she considered how to answer the question, nibbling it thoughtfully.

"I'd love to help them," she answered finally, "But I don't know how. Radical terrorism isn't the answer. In many cases, horrifying as the cases may be, some of these animals are better off in zoos and in captivity. They live their lives being viewed and fed and well-cared for, even if they do sacrifice something for it. Randomly running about the countryside and freeing them is a romantic notion, but it's not the answer. At most they end up back in places where their habitat is being destroyed by the never-ceasing forward-push of industry. At worst they get hit by a car or they savage a civilian and have to be put down as being vicious and out of control."

"Then what's the answer?" Daphne asked, "How do we help them?"

"Be part of the movement that makes the rest of the world care by any means necessary," Hermione shrugged, "Genetically engineer each species to be smarter – to have a more human-like drive to dominate all other species. Set them loose on humanity and watch the carnage."

Ginny's eyes widened, "You would wish for innocent lives to be sacrificed to mutated animals?"

Hermione smiled slowly, "That's the problem Ginny. When I say something like that, when I wish for the death and destruction of humanity, I'm a monster. When I say that these species should all rise up and begin hunting us, destroying us, suddenly everybody cares. We are a selfish species and we only care about our own survival. If a human is sacrificed to the need for these animals to keep their habitat, it's a tragedy. But if thousands of innocent animals are fed to the always-hungry machines of industry and human progress, no one bats an eye."

Ginny looked floored by her words, staring at her in surprise when she realised that what she'd said was true.

"You're passionate about this, aren't you Granger?" Pansy asked, tipping her head to one side and watching her speculatively, "I always thought maybe you were just a bit nutty about House Elves, but you actually genuinely care about the death and destruction of species' and about the servitude and mistreatment of others."

"I'm very passionate about it," Hermione agreed with her, nodding her head, "And I will make a difference. House Elves were perhaps not the best place to start. They need more than I can currently offer to help them because most of them are so twisted that they _want_ to be slaves to wizards. But there are others who would take my help gratefully, if cautiously to begin with. Right now in fact, we as a magical race are at risk. If there really are so few of us until everyone starts spitting out kids, those other species could rise up and overthrow the wizarding world and our way of thinking. If I were them, I would."

Everyone stared at her in silence for a several long minutes at her statement, realising the gravity of the situation and the seriousness with which she meant to improve things for other magical races. If they cared however, Hermione didn't notice. She'd returned her attention to her book.


	12. Chapter 12: All About You

**A/N: Hello! Sorry about the wait. I distract easily *blushes before spotting a butterfly and beginning to chase it* Thanks to everyone who leaves such wonderful reviews. I know the animal rights rant in the last chappie was a bit heavy, but I promise it's important to the plot. =) I can't wait to hear what you think of this chapter! Much love! xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Little Do You Know**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 12: All About You**

* * *

Draco spent the majority of his breakfast in silence with Granger seated between his knees and reading her book. Her arguments for animal rights and for the rights of magical creatures were clearly important to her. He'd known from his forays into her mind that she interested in them but he hadn't realised she meant to make a career out of them. He hadn't realised she was radical enough to wish an extinction upon humanity for the sake of other creatures.

He also hadn't realised her friends were such wimps that they were afraid of seeing her lose her temper. Bunch of cowards. So much for Gryffindor being the house of the brave. The rest of his friends fell to chatter about whatever bollocks suited them, working over and around their Gryffindor and Ravenclaw spouses like it was no big deal.

Which it actually was, of course.

He wasn't about to go explaining to Granger that within pureblood society this was a practice designed to make a betrothed couple work together. By having to sit with Granger between his knees or on his lap, he had to learn her dimensions. He was forced to interact with her. To make accommodations for her within his daily life. Having her in his space guaranteed he had to make room for her. He had to learn to make allowances for her. She didn't know it yet, but for the rest of the year – until their wedding, in any case – she was domed to days on end spent being manhandled into his lap or held captive in his arms at the most inopportune of times.

It was a recognised and taught practice within the pureblood community that a betrothed couple needed to learn to cooperate. Too often within arranged marriages couples simply 'tolerated' one another. Meaning they shared a mansion, they even shared children, but they lived entirely separate lives, interacting only when they had to and making no effort to get along with or enjoy the other person in the marriage.

It had been Goyle's suggestion this morning that they all begin implementing it. Not that Draco hadn't been thinking of doing it anyway. He knew he'd struck a chord with all of his friends yesterday when he'd pulled Marcus up for tormenting Katie Bell. There were standards and customs of pureblood society that ought to be upheld and, as barbaric as they might sometimes seem, they were effective.

Hence the fact that all of his friends had their betrothed witches in their laps and looking utterly startled, annoyed and otherwise confused about the arrangement. Pansy, Daphne, Tracy and Rosanna had been all for the idea of implementing the witches version of the forced interaction practice. Daphne had seemed only too pleased about the notion of climbing into Longbottom's lap again.

Just as Draco's presence with or around Granger forced her to get used to him, to accept him and make allowances for him to avoid them both looking like idiots, pureblood witches were taught that it was important to sit in the lap of their betrothed wizard as well. For the girls it was as much a requirement as it was for the boys. It was a learning curve to be sure, especially when not all the players in each equation new the rules of the game – like Granger didn't – and so were prone to complaining, grumbling and demanding answers as to why the game was being played.

By eating his breakfast around her, he was forced to be careful of where he put his hands. To work with her to reach whatever he wanted from the table. He had to watch where he put his elbows and how quickly he reached for an item. He had to be careful not to drop food all over her. He had to make sure she didn't go jostling about too much and risk having him spill his hot tea all over both of them.

In other words, he had to make sure that everything he did included a thought for how his actions would affect her. Similarly, Granger had to be careful too. She had to wait until he was good and ready to leave the table before she could think about getting up and storming off. She had to make sure she didn't wriggle around too much and risk bumping him in case he dropped food on her. She had to get used to having him inside her personal space, which he could tell she was furious about.

Draco didn't take it personally. She was taking it better than Katie Bell was handling Marcus's attention. Already she'd elbowed him three times and cause him to spill his morning coffee on her. The Weaselette seemed to have either accepted Blaise's company or had realised what they were up to because now that Granger wasn't liable to screech at her, she seemed calm enough. In fact she'd taken to sipping from the cup of tea Blaise had made for himself with the fiery red-head in his lap.

She was eating a bowl of cereal and though she looked slightly uncomfortable about it all, she wasn't complaining as he forked his morning feast of bacon and eggs into his mouth. All without dropping a crumb on her. Draco didn't doubt that if Blaise spilled something on her, she would lose her mind. He wondered if she knew what they were up to. Did blood traitor families like the Weasleys keep to the old pureblood practices?

He could tell from Longbottom's determined expression as he juggled Daphne in his lap that he knew what they were about. No doubt he'd share the information with them later. That or he'd lose his noodle at the way Daphne was carrying on a lively conversation with Pansy over the way they'd spent the summer, nattering on about spending a month on the beach on France. She was waving her arms about and making it difficult for Longbottom to drink his tea, but he didn't complain. He simply began timing his bites and his sips to whenever Pansy was talking. Which was effective, actually, considering how much Pansy liked to talk.

Meanwhile, in his own lap, Granger was still and quiet. Every now and then she nibbled at a piece of toast or had a sip of her tea, but for the most part she simply sat there between his knees, leaning ever so slightly to one side so that Draco could eat over her shoulder while she read her book. Draco could tell she was still annoyed about him being in her personal space but she seemed content enough to read her book in silence. He supposed that it might even be something of a relief for her as he carried on a conversation with Blaise about the stock market and Blaise's dislike for his newest step-father – who seemed determined to convince Blaise to go into politics, which Blaise did not at all fancy.

When Granger moved in his lap after a while, Draco watched what she did. He suspected that she'd tuned out his conversation and that she had all but forgotten he was there. She reclined against his chest comfortably enough, no longer sitting stiffly as though she were hyper aware of his proximity. She reached idly for the teapot sitting on the table in front of them both, without looking away from her book.

Draco shifted her cup underneath the stream of boiling water just before she could go filling up his cup when he wasn't in the mood for another. Blaise smirked at him across the table as he watched, looking amused by the idea of Draco paying such close attention to the little muggle-born witch. Draco would've flipped him off if it weren't for the expression of intrigue that appeared on Ginny Weasley's face as she watched Draco go about seeing to Granger's needs with patience and tolerance.

She clearly hadn't been expecting that he and Granger would be able to cooperate at all. She was also looking like she couldn't decide if she wanted to relax against Blaise's chest or if she wanted to kick Blaise in the face, get up and run away. He suspected the former was what she'd prefer to do but that she didn't dare, lest it be construed as her somehow betraying Potter. The two were no longer an item, he assumed, and Potter hadn't returned after fleeing Granger's potential wrath.

Draco would've very much enjoyed see her snap. The way they all reacted made him think she was like a miniature tea kettle, likely to explode or bubble over dangerously if not properly seen to. He'd wanted to find out what they were all so afraid of. Did she scream at them in a fury? Did she break things when she got angry? He knew she had a penchant for maiming him in particular when he did something to really annoy her, so he assumed her friends received the same – though most likely slightly less violent – treatment.

He knew she was prone to shouting too, given that he'd witnessed more than a few of the rows she and Weasley had before they'd been dating. Draco wondered what the two of them had sorted out in that regard. Just yesterday they'd been snogging each other silly in the middle of a Quidditch match yet today Weaselbee hadn't said a word about Draco not touching Granger and not sitting with her. He'd expected the git to punch him, if he was being honest, or at least to be on the receiving end of a vicious hex. Yet other than a bit of grumbling and being sick over the things Draco had described, Weasley hadn't complained.

And unlike Potter, Weasley hadn't been distracted by having a witch climbing into his lap and stealing food off his fork.

"What time is our first class supposed to start today?" Daphne wanted to do, now reclining comfortably against Longbottom's chest as though she belonged there. Draco supposed, given that they were to be married, that she kind of did.

"Nine," Lovegood answered without looking up from the Qubblier magazine she had her nose stuck in.

"What's it supposed to be focusing on again?" Ginny asked, frowning as though she'd forgotten.

"It's a lecture on the full implications of the new law and all that's expected of us, followed by a getting-to-know-you type exercise," Blaise answered the girl, offering her a strawberry with his fork, having moved on from bacon and eggs to a helping of pancakes with strawberries. Draco himself was still tucking into a stack of pancakes.

"Oh how delightful," Ginny grumbled though she accepted the strawberry. Draco smirked at Blaise's expression of amusement when she plucked the fruit off the fork with her fingers to eat it rather than allowing him to feed it to her – as Blaise had clearly wanted to do. Draco couldn't tell if she did it out of indignation over not being fed like a toddler or if she just didn't want to put the fork Blaise had licked into her mouth.

"What's the matter Weaslette?" Millicent piped up, sitting further down the table and tucking into her own hearty breakfast, "Worried about sharing your personal life with your new fiancé?"

"I loathe the getting-to-know-you games," Ginny retorted, "They're all such boring things you're expected to know about each other but should learn without having to ask. Like, I'm not going to go blurting out my favourite colour and making this easy. You want to know my favourite colour, you pay attention to me and work it out for yourself."

"That's hardly fair Ginny," Granger piped up from between Draco's knees, "Given that in all the time I've know you I've only ever see you wear your favourite colour once."

"Well it doesn't go with me hair, does it?" Weaselette retorted, "But that doesn't mean it's not still my favourite. I just enjoy it in ways that don't involve clothing."

"You're going to make this really hard on me, aren't you, love?" Blaise asked, looking amused. Draco recognised the gleam Blaise got in his eyes when he was interested in wooing some new bird who'd heard of his reputation and didn't want anything to do with him. He adored such a challenge. Blaise would pit his entire will against anything that stood in his way of discovering every one of Ginevra Weasley's secrets if it meant he'd be better able to sweet-talk her into bed with him.

"I'm going to be your worst nightmare, Blaise Zabini," Weaselette confirmed, grinning cruelly.

"I wonder if they'll do a quiz?" Lovegood mused, looking like she was daydreaming as she twisted a section of her blonde hair around her fingers. She looked entirely at home in Theo's lap, not at all seeming to notice the way her fanged-geranium crown of flowers was trying to take bites out of Theo every time he leaned around her so he could see what he was cutting on the plate in front of them and so he could feed himself.

Draco hid his smirk when Theo turned the page of Luna's magazine, clearly having stumbled on some kind of article that was intriguing him and wanting to read on. Lovegood didn't seem to mind.

"A quiz?" Granger's ears perked up at that and she nearly wore maple syrup and soggy pancake batter when she tossed her hair over one shoulder while Draco was forking food into his mouth.

"Now, Hermione," Ginny held up her hands, "It won't count as failing if you can't answer every question about Malfoy. I promise that, to me, failing will be what you'll do if you're able to answer the questions correctly given that until very recently, Malfoy was the enemy."

"You say that as though he no longer holds that title," Granger retorted and Draco smirked wickedly at her words. It was clear from her tone that she still loathed him, despite their camaraderie yesterday in the Quidditch game before he'd invaded her mind.

"My mistake," Weaslette grinned nastily at Draco over Hermione's shoulder and he narrowed his eyes on her the slightest bit, suspecting she made the slip of the tongue on purpose. No doubt to remind him that just because the little witch was currently sitting calmly in his hold didn't mean that she would continue to be so placid in his company.

"We should get going," Tracy pointed out from where she was still sitting beside Draco despite Potter's departure, "The class is on the fifth floor and it's already quarter to nine now."

"Already?" Granger asked, glancing over at Tracy in surprise before looking at her wristwatch.

"Oh no," she said, "I meant to get to the library this morning before classes began to collect some more books on this mess."

"I thought we established that you were going to desist researching loopholes for the sake of avoiding Tivorllo's Clause and the notion of becoming a breeding sow?" Theo asked before he suddenly hissed.

Draco looked over to see that one of the fanged geraniums in Lovegood's hair had just taken a bite of him. The entire crown of flowers dragged from Lovegood's long blonde hair to dangle from Theo's ear.

"Oh, are you alright Theodore?" Lovegood asked vaguely when she noticed that her wreath was missing.

"No more fanged plants, woman," Theo warned her as he snatched the entire wreath away from himself, threw it to the ground and set fire to it with his wand, watching the flowers writhe in agony before thy shrivelled and died completely.

"But they're so pretty," Lovegood said, not at all looking amused, despite the way all the Slytherin's were laughing. Pansy collected two sickles from Daphne, apparently having betted Theo would be bitten by the flowers. Draco watched the way Theo's left eyes twitched with the urge to call Lovegood a liar about the ugly flowers. He began to laugh when, instead, Theo took Lovegood's bag from her and slung it over his shoulder before draping an arm around her shoulders and leading her out of the hall towards the classroom.

All without saying another word.

"Are you going to let me up now?" Granger asked, having ignored Theo's question while she stuffed the book she'd been reading back into her overstuffed bag.

"Are you going to be difficult about everything?" Draco retorted as he nuzzled his nose into her neck to see how she would react.

She tensed and jerked away from his as best she could. Draco smirked, storing the bit of information away that if she was distracted by a book or conversation she didn't pay nearly as much attention to what he did to her person and even relaxed in his hold. She'd gone back to being tense and snippy now that her book was back in her bag.

"Why are you doing this?" she demanded of him when he pivoted around her and got to his feet before reaching down and lifting her up to her feet as well, "You and I are not friends, Malfoy. We never have been and frankly it's unsettling to have you suddenly clogging up my personal space in addition to my life as a result of this ridiculous law."

"How else are you going to get used to having me touch you?" he asked her, staring down into her face seriously.

"With time and less disconcerting ways would be appreciated," she informed him, "I don't take kindly to being manhandled, Malfoy. I'm not a child or a doll to be played with and manipulated at will and I don't like not having elbow room or being touched constantly."

Draco simply stared at her with a smirk on his face, enjoying the fact that she was clearly trying to remain civil whilst still stating her case firmly and in such a way that brooked little argument.

"You'll get used to it," he promised, slinging his bag over his shoulder and strolling towards the exit while Granger made a sound of frustration very akin to a canine growl.

"I will _not_ get used to it," she retorted, "And if you think you're going to make me get used to it by ignoring my wishes and continuing to manhandle me, you might find yourself needing to get used to being publicly humiliated and otherwise injured."

"You're a feisty little thing, Granger," Draco informed her, smirking sideways at her as he strode through the halls with his friends trailing around them. Being that there was such a large number of matches affected by this law, they'd been divided into groups of those who knew each other somewhat and those who didn't. All of his friends had been put into a group together for the smaller classes sizes needed for efficiency. He could see Blaise chatting to Goyle and Marcus while Draco spoke with Granger. Pansy, Millicent, Tracy, Daphne and Rosanna also walked together, with Stacey trailing behind and looking awkward. Weaslette, Patil and Brown walked with Katie Bell and Angelina Johnston, while Finnigan, Longbottom, Dean Thomas and George Weasley all moved in another group together. Ahead of them in the corridor Draco could see Theo and Luna, Theo's arm still wrapped around the blonde Ravenclaw.

"Oh trust me Malfoy, you've never seem me when I'm feisty. Furious, perhaps, and scathing with utter loathing certainly. But you've never seen me feisty," Granger assured him cattily.

"I will though," Draco grinned lasciviously, "I hope you're feisty in bed."

She made a sound of outrage and stamped her foot indignantly, looking at an utter loss for words even as her cheeks darkened to an appealing shade of pink with embarrassment over his crass and bold statement. Draco wondered if he'd ever enjoyed riling anyone as much as he enjoyed riling Hermione Granger.


	13. Chapter 13: I'm Just Your Problem

**A/N: Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this chapter to you, you guys! I have absolutely no excuse but that the muse up and shifted to Thorfinn and refused to budge for AGES. I'm trying to get back into the swing of updating all of my WIPs on a semi-regular basis, but I can't promise any kind of update schedule, unfortunately. Much love to you all if you're still following/reading this!**

 **xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Little Do You Know**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 13: I'm Just Your Problem**

* * *

Hermione was positively seething as she sat down in the classroom, all the more furious when Malfoy insisted on seating himself right beside her. She knew, logically, that he had to sit with her, given that it was a class designed to focus on their pairings for this ridiculous law. But all she wanted to do was hex him into oblivion and crawl back into bed in the hopes of waking from this horrid nightmare. Lavender had certainly had the right idea regarding the wish that it be nothing more than a nightmare she was suffering.

How dare he say such bold things about the notions of their impending intimacy after crushing what little hope she had that she could wheedle her way out of marrying him. She was determined to find some loophole she could exploit. Even if everyone else was resigning themselves to the need to be married to avoid the activation of the Old Magic, Hermione wanted a way out. She couldn't bear the idea of marrying Draco Malfoy. Were she paired with anyone else, she supposed she could have accepted it, but not with Malfoy.

Not when he was so smug and arrogant. Not when he was such a git. Not when she couldn't stop thinking about the sight he'd made whilst shirtless yesterday before the Quidditch game. She positively loathed herself for how often the image had popped into her head since she'd seen his shirtless. It was inhuman for anyone to look as attractive as he'd done and Hermione wanted to scoop the memory from her head and never have to look at it again.

The last thing she needed amid all this, especially knowing he was skilled at Legilimency and not afraid to use it on people without their permission or knowledge, was notions of him being attractive flitting around inside her head. The entire time she'd been in the Great Hall since he'd joined them, Hermione had been uncomfortably aware of him. At first in outrage over him being in her elbow room and treating her like something he simply had to operate around and accommodate for. But when she'd let herself relax little and sink back into her book, Hermione had been alarmed by how warm and comfortable he was, pressed against her as he had been. It was hardly fair that he be so easy to tolerate. He hadn't even slurped in her ear or dropped a single crumb on her when he'd fed himself over her shoulder.

Hermione would admit _that_ had impressed her a bit. It was no easy feat to work around someone like that, especially if they were being uncooperative or difficult, as she'd been when she went wiggling about trying to reclaim her book from Ron. The idea of having to work with him frustrated her. The notion of putting up with him, possibly for the rest of her days positively infuriated her and if she was being honest, she simply could not wrap her head around the concept of needing to be intimate with him. Knowing he'd been inside her mind was far too intimate in her opinion and the idea of being required to sleep with him, to let him see her naked, to have his children, made parts of her squirm uncomfortably. And none of them in a good way.

Glaring at him sideways, Hermione chose not to give any other response to his assertions about her apparent feistiness. She didn't want to encourage him. Instead, Hermione pulled out her parchment, quill and inkwell to prepare for the notion of taking notes, should she be required to do so. She wanted to make sure she didn't forget anything important when they were informed of the full requirements to meet the legal standard of this preposterous law so there couldn't be any misunderstandings later.

"Alright, is everybody here?" a perky looking witch in perhaps her mid-forties asked of the gathered people when it ticked past nine o'clock and no one else was forthcoming with las minute arrivals. She wore causal sort of robes in a pretty shade of Magenta and her long dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail. If not for the crow's feet and laugh-lines on her face she could have passed for a woman in her thirties at least.

Muttered assent from the group prompted the witch to continue.

"Excellent. Welcome everyone to your first ever Couples Cooperation class. My name is Helga Worthington and I'm going to be walking you through every step of learning to become a co-operational couple in your new pairings," Helga informed them.

Hermione jotted down the name of the class in addition to the name of their instructor so that she wouldn't forget.

"Now my understanding is that all of you are either aware of who the other person is based on being in the same schooling year; or having been friends, acquaintances or lovers prior to the announcement of the marriage law. Is that correct? Anyone who had never met or heard of their intended spouse before yesterday's sorting please raise your hand."

No one did. Hermione glanced around the room to check. She noted Harry, Ron, Seamus, George, Dean and Neville all sitting together a row over from where Hermione sat beside Ginny. She'd thought about joining the boys, but they'd clearly chosen to fill up their row with all males to avoid having to sit with their intended spouses. Even George. Not that Angelina seemed to mind as she sat the row in front of them along with Katie. Marcus sat beside Katie, looking amused by the way she was ignoring him. Goyle sat on Malfoy's far side, having dragged Lavender over with him. Blaise sat on Ginny's far side and Theo sat beside him, Luna looking rather comical on the end of Hermione's row where she was staring vaguely at Helga as though trying to determine whether or not the woman had been accosted by wrackspurts.

"Well this is a first," Helga grinned. "Can it be that I'm to teach a class that doesn't have students in it that aren't meant to be here? Maybe you lot really _are_ the best hope we have for the continuation of the wizarding world. If you're all actually able to follow simple instructions, I'm sure you'll breed perfectly legitimate and non-stupid children."

Hermione wasn't the only one to titter with amusement at the woman's sarcasm and amusement over the notion that they weren't all imbeciles.

"Goodness me, I never thought I'd see this day. You know what? If you have just realised you're not meant to be in this room, I insist you keep it to yourself to avoid ruining this perfect moment," Helga went on. "Now then, I supposed I better fill you in on the law?"

The class nodded, all of them in something of a better mood now that she'd made light of the otherwise sombre affair that gathered them together in the classroom.

"Alright then, this is a copy of the law as it's recorded at the Ministry," Helga told them, waving her wand and causing a stack of parchments to begin distributing themselves around the room. Hermione snatched up her copy immediately and began to read it very carefully looking for some kind of loophole she could exploit.

"As you can see it states that you've all got a year to get married to you matched partner excepting those of you still in your sixth year of schooling. You get until the end of your education to tie the knot, you lucky devils. Now then, I assume by your presence here that all of you have chosen not to take the other route and give up your magic and your memories to avoid this?"

Again a murmur of agreement sounded.

"I can't say I blame you. I like being a witch, thank you very much," Helga informed them. "Right then. Year to get married. Got to get you lot popping out babies too, so you need to get along enough for that. Four kids might seem daunting to most of you too, but I promise it's not as terrible as it might seem. The rest of the information is pretty standard stuff pertaining to the specifics and it's all noted in the law, so check that out if you have any questions. As you are aware the purpose of this law is to circumvent Tivorllo's Clause by boosting the numbers of little witches and wizards being born into the world. That's why you're in this class. Don't worry, I'm not going to terrify you with explanations about the human reproductive system. My job is to get all of your feeling comfortable with each other by having you all get to know your new spouse."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the idea, half-listening as she poured over the law, looking for loopholes. Whoever had drafted it was good, she would give them that. She wasn't having much luck with finding answers. Being infertile meant you had to adopt. Being clinically insane meant you were exempt for the safety of others and everything else was fair game. If you were disabled and couldn't procreate you were still expected to marry and adopt. If you were homosexual you had to adopt.

"Now, we're going to start off by having each of you fill out one of these questionnaires about yourselves. I want you to answer every question on the paper truthfully. Keep in mind that you will not be able to cheat off your neighbour. This first quiz is about you. When you've all completed it I'm going to collect them and hang onto them before giving you another questionnaire pertaining to your spouse. By the end of this month long intensive training I will expect that each of you will be able to answer every question about your partner as easily as you might answer the quiz for yourselves. Don't panic if today you can't get much down, or if they're incorrect. We'll be playing some getting-to-know-you games as well before we move on into more intensive one-on-one things between the two of you. I'm also going to throw in random lessons on how to better be a co-operational couple. Remember that from here on out the person you were matched with is going to be your husband or your wife and you _will_ raise at least four children with that person. You will live with them. You will sleep with them, and you will spend your life with them. I only ask that you check your frustration about the law at the door. I'm not asking you to fake it that you like or fancy your partner if you don't, but I expect you to make a concerted effort to overcome your dislike. You will be graded on how well you cooperate with your spouse in my lessons and extreme shows of rebellion against the law will be reported to the Ministry."

Hermione looked up from the scroll she'd been reading, frowning in annoyance over the very idea.

"Finally a quiz Granger isn't going to ace," Blaise chuckled, glancing at Hermione from Ginny's far side.

"If you ace it, I might cry," Ginny informed Hermione, patting her hand reassuringly when Hermione felt a familiar swoop of panic at the idea that she might not know all the answers on a quiz for once.

"I think I can handle my own quiz just fine," Hermione told them, pretending not to know they were referring to what she may or may not know about Malfoy.

As the parchment drifted over to land in front of her, Hermione blanched at the length of the questionnaire. It was a hundred questions long with all manner of silly things like the names of her parents, her favourite colour, her dream career. Many of them were basic knowledge but some of them were the types of things she would have to get to know a person to complete. Meaning that if she wanted to answer all the questions, she was going to have to get to know Malfoy. Wrinkling her nose at the idea, Hermione took up her quill and began to write down her information on the scroll of parchment.

"Going to let me peek at the answers, Granger?" Malfoy asked, leaning over to mutter into her ear.

"Not a chance," Hermione retorted, "But if your quiz is identical to mine when I have to answer about you, I know I can probably get at least a few of them right. You, on the other hand, have no chance of knowing any of these things about me."

"You think so?" he asked, smirking at her.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at his stupid pointed ferret face before she returned her attention to answering everything about herself. It was terribly long, ranging in questions from what her favourite colours and favourite foods were to how she liked her tea, what she wanted to do after she graduated and what her hobbies might be. She diligently filled out the quiz, being careful not to let Malfoy peek, something he seemed determined to manage.

"Alright then," Helga said after she'd given them all enough time to fill out the quiz, "Now I'm going to give you this next quiz about your partners and I want you to fill out every question that you know the answer to. When you've completed everything you can, hand it to your partner for them to check your answers."

Hermione felt her anxiety levels begin to spike when she was given a quiz pertaining to Malfoy, finding that she had very little knowledge pertaining to him as a person. Some of them were easy, she supposed. Things like what his biggest regret was were things she knew. Things like his favourite colour, she took a stab at. She was alarmed when she'd answered everything she could about him – less than half the questions on the sheet – before looking over and finding him diligently filling out the one about her with alarming attention to detail.

She peeked over his shoulder and frowned when she read some of his answers. Many of them were correct. Narrowing her eyes hatefully at him, Hermione crossed her arms over her chest.

"Using Legilimency to pluck the answers from my head is hardly fair, Malfoy," Hermione grumbled, "If you're not careful, I'll return the favour."

"Go ahead," he slanted a smirk in her direction, "If you think you can. I'll even drop my wards for you, if you want?"

Hermione glared at him, clearly having gleaned from his intrusions that she had yet to figure out Legilimency.

"I'm going to get it eventually and then I'm going to crawl so far inside your head that nothing will be secret from me," she warned him quietly.

"I'll return the favour," he smirked at her. "Come on in whenever you're ready, Granger, but don't sob when you don't like what you find, yeah?"

Hermione scowled at him before looking away. She jiggled her foot in annoyance, more determined than ever to master legilimency and use it on him as he'd used it on her.

"Let's see how well you know me then, witch," he drawled several long minutes later when he finished answering all the questions about her.

Hermione handed him the quiz about him, snatching the one about herself from him and beginning to mark it. She felt her scowl deepen when many of them were, indeed, correctly answered. He'd gotten her favourite colour wrong. And he'd mistaken her biggest fear as being storms, rather than failure.

She marked the answers off carefully before looking over to find him smirking at her, his own quiz already marked. Hermione felt something inside herself shrivel in frustration to see that she had only gotten on question right on the entire thing.

"Well, isn't this a new and exciting turn of events?" he sneered, snatching his questionnaire back to double check his answers. "I got more correct answers than the know-it-all."

"Stuff if, Malfoy. I consider it an achievement that I've managed to share a classroom with you for seven years without having to notice anything about you. It proves my skills at ignoring annoying little ferrets, even when they bark for attention."

"I've never barked," he frowned at her.

"No, you just sneer and smirk and pick fights for no good reason."

"I had a perfectly good reason for every fight I picked, thank you," he argued condescendingly.

"Oh? And what reasons would those be? Other than an ingrained need for attention because Mummy and Daddy were too busy with their parties and giving you expensive things rather than giving you the time of day?"

"Sweetheart, you're the one who tries too hard for attention because your parents ignored you. Mine over-indulged me with everything I ever wanted. I pick fights, not for the attention, but merely for the sick thrill I get in watching Potter look like he wants to murder me," Draco drawled in reply.

Hermione blinked stupidly for several long moments following his statement, both over being called 'sweetheart' and over the notion that maybe she _did_ try so hard in class because her parents had always been dismissive of her. When she didn't immediately respond, Draco glanced over at her, his brow slightly furrowed.

"What? You didn't realise that your imperative fear of failure and your incessant need to answer every question and prove how smart you are was a by-product of being raised by parents who didn't give a stuff about you unless you did something to earn their praise?" he asked, lifting one eyebrow. "Really, Granger? Oh… well, that's just… sad. We've all been laughing about it in the Slytherin common room since first year."

Hermione wondered what the world was coming to that she suddenly found herself unnervingly intrigued by Draco bloody Malfoy.


	14. Chapter 14: Tensions

**A/N: *shuffles in, knowing it's been well over a year***

 ***hands over the chapter***

 ***scampers off, peering at you from the shadows to see if you're still reading***

 **xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Little Do You Know**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 14: Tensions**

* * *

Draco smirked to himself throughout the remainder of the lesson, only too aware that he'd caught her attention now. She didn't like the idea that he knew anything about her. She didn't like that she'd have to marry him, either, but there was little for it. If he could lure her into being intrigued by him and more interested in getting to know him, he might better sway her toward the notion that no matter their history, they could be great together.

Of course, it would take a lot of convincing, but Draco was nothing it not dedicated when it came to getting what he wanted. And he couldn't deny that he wanted Hermione Granger. It wasn't just that he'd begun to notice her for her feminine wiles, either. He wanted that brilliant mind of hers and he wanted to see what kind of passions he could coax out of her, both in and out of the bedroom. Merlin, he'd give his fortune to have her turn to him that very minute, lean over, and whisper in his ear that she wanted him to take her to bed.

She wouldn't, he knew. Merlin, knowing his luck she probably wouldn't even consider letting him shag her until they were legally married. And they _would_ be legally married. Sooner, rather than later, if he had anything to say about it. He wasn't in the mood to tolerate having her trying to wiggle out of this mess, even if he did think it was going to be fun watching her slowly change her opinion as she fell for him.

She didn't talk to him for the rest of the lesson, while Worthington went on at length about the importance of cooperation and began assigning them tasks to complete each day to better ensure they got along. Practice made perfect, the silly witch said, and they had to practice at being friends until one day they simply would be. She seemed very set on the idea of ensuring the relationship was built on a foundation of friendship, rather than on the forced marriage thanks to the Ministry's interference.

"Well," Blaise muttered when the lesson finally ended and they were released to attend lunch. "That was a load of rubbish."

"You didn't find the ideas useful?" Granger asked, surprising Draco with her reasonable tone in response to Blaise's dismissive one.

"Useful, sure, if you're a moron who doesn't know how to make a friend," Blaise shrugged his shoulders. "But for us? Nah, not so much. Setting us tasks to spend time together when we're already invading your space and working with and around you is a waste of time, but at least it'll be an easy grade. And Ginevra, if you so much as think about trying to hex Tracy again, I'm going to throw you over my shoulder, carry you down to my bunk in the dungeons and ravish you until you forget Potter's bloody name, witch!"

Draco slanted a look to the left to see that Blaise had been keeping a close eye on his betrothed and noticed the way the end of her wand was emitting little red sparks while she glared at Potter and Tracy where they were walking together after the lesson, Tracy animatedly regaling Potter with some story about how her parents had gotten together. Potter was laughing along with the story, nodding and engaged, and he didn't bat an eye when Tracy handed off her book bag to the black-haired wizard to carry before she performed a funny little dance step that Draco was certain he'd seen her father perform in front of her mother a time or two at the many Balls and parties held at the Manor.

"You wouldn't dare, Zabini! I could wipe the floor with you and you know it!" Weasley hissed and Draco reckoned the witch was in for a rude awakening if she was doubting that Blaise would follow through on his threats, no matter those she made in return.

"Go ahead and hex Tracy then, love. See where it gets you," Blaise invited, a wicked smile curling his lips. Draco could tell he would adore carrying the feisty witch off to ravish her in the dungeons.

Ginny glared up at Blaise for a long moment, her eyes narrowed hatefully, and Draco could tell that Blaise was a little frightened by her intensity when she focused it so singularly upon him, but he didn't show it. Instead he affixed a cruel little smirk to his mouth and let his eyes wander Ginny's athletic form, just daring her to test him and let him have his wicked way with her by default. Draco knew that if it came down to it, the git really would carry her off like a barbarian and have his way with her. He'd bet Weasley wouldn't think about Potter again afterward, either, except maybe to berate herself for wasting so much time with the specky git when she couldn't been riding Blaise's monster cock, instead.

Granger bumped his arm by accident as they walked toward the Great Hall for lunch, digging into her bag looking for something and Draco looked over, wondering if she was trying to grab his attention or if she genuinely was just looking for something in her book bag.

"What are you chasing?" he asked her curiously, stepping a little closer and taking perverse pleasure in putting his arm around her shoulders under the pretence of steering her around a statue when she almost walked right into one in the corridor because she wasn't watching where she was going.

She stiffened at his touch, her head jerking up so that she could level a glare at him for his daring. Draco marvelled at the striations of amber and gold that seemed to fleck her brown eyes when she was angry. She really was shaping out to be quite beautiful, he thought.

"My homework planner," she said when he didn't say anything else, just raised his eyebrows at her and waited for her answer without removing his arm from around her shoulders, no matter the way she shrugged them and the way she glared so fiercely.

"What for?" he frowned. "Lessons haven't even started yet."

"She gave us assignments in there," Granger frowned, jerking her thumb toward the classroom in their wake.

Draco smirked.

"Trust me, Granger," he said. "You're not going to need to write down the assignment to spend time with me. I'm not going anywhere. It'll be the easiest grade you've ever earned."

"Not if I have to put up with you, it won't," she argued, looking annoyed with him for the way he was holding her though she didn't bother trying to shove him off her.

Draco suspected she knew that fighting would be futile and would just encourage him to be even more annoying.

"You two need to get a room," Blaise piped up at that moment before he could offer her a snarky reply, and Draco shot him a side-eye that suggested he'd pull Blaise's innards out through his nose if he didn't piss off, but the other boy ignored the expression. "What? Don't pretend to me that you didn't have her parading around on your shoulders during that quidditch match, mate. And I saw the way she was looking at you down in our dormitory. You two need to just shag all the hate out and get on with fancying the pants off each other."

"And there goes my appetite," Granger sneered, shrugging Draco's arm off her shoulders and actually turning away from the direction they'd been walking.

He knew she was heading off the library from the way she turned down a different corridor and Draco tossed up the merits of seeing to his own appetite – which was still very much intact – or going after her. On the one hand, if he didn't eat he was likely to get cranky lately. He was bratty at the best of times, he knew, and he didn't need to compound upon it by skipping lunch. On the other, if he went after Granger and managed to get her alone for a few minutes, he might be able to talk her into forgiving him for the Legilimency thing, and maybe even figure out what in the hell her problem was with this Marriage Law mess.

After all, being so unreasonably stroppy about it was uncalled for. Was it terribly inconvenient and rude? Of course, it was. Had he been thinking he might, eventually, seduce her into be his girlfriend and marrying him one day, regardless of the law? Well…. Maybe.

Blaise smirked when he spotted Draco carrying on a mental battle about lunch over another fight with Granger.

"You might as well go after her," he said, grinning. "Shove her up against one of those bookshelves in the back of the library and make her realise you're not all _that_ bad."

Draco rolled his eyes, sighing in annoyance before setting off in Granger's wake. And if he was thinking about taking Blaise's suggestion to heart as he walked, rather than rationalising what he might say and how he might get Granger to stop being such a bitch about this whole mess, well, that was his business.


End file.
